Secrets of War
by reginassthief
Summary: Prev. The Ball Rolls Down The Hill. Original Idea. Au. Ww2. Dark times loom ahead for everybody and Robin- an English soldier- finds himself badly wounded in a German city. His fate rest on a little ten year old boy and his mother as all three of them must fight for Robin's existence to remain a secret. Outlawqueen Regalbeliever.
1. Prologue

**So this was the fic that was only supposed to be a few started paragraphs (if that) and it turned into a full 2k+ chapter. One day my brain will stop coming up with aus that require it to be more than just a oneshot. Anyway, I wasn't sure to post this but** **its-a-story-of-love said I should and this is why I'm posting it. It's set during ww2 and even though I did learn bits of it at school, I am refreshing myself with it and learning more as I go along so any mistakes, I'm sorry. This is completely out of my comfort zone but it wouldn't leave me alone so I thought I might as well give it a go and yeah, this is it. I tend to stay away from actual historical events because I'd probably fuck it up. Also, there is no actual place called Glücklich Street, I made that place up. Neither am I German so any German in this is either from some form of translator or an actual German (especially for future German sentences) And I'm gonna shut up now. Enjoy :)**

The ball thuds against the side of the house, bouncing off and landing into a nearby muddy puddle, splashing his once clean white socks.

His whole uniform is a mess- the light brown shirt now sporting patches of a darker brown, both from the puddles and the ball, itself. On the way back to Glücklich Street, Henry and Rudy's friendly game of football had turned into a game of Who-Could-Hit-The-Other-Hardest-With-The-Ball, and by the time they'd reached the top of their street, their once clean, smart, and presentable uniforms had been sullied with mud- not that either of them cared.

The tattered ball whacks against the wall harder and Henry's certain Mama will come out and scold at him for making the house shake but right now, he can't really bring himself to care for that, either. He hates these uniforms. The itchy, scratchy, horrible uniforms. Hates having to go there nearly every day- hiking, and marching, and trying to read maps he doesn't really understand- hates all of it. But most of all he hates the Führer!

He hits the ball hard, once more, against the wall, ducking as it sails past his head, before landing and rolling down the slope. Henry sighs, glances a look at the window- and when he sees Mama isn't watching him- he takes off, following the ball.

He was told he shouldn't say things like that; say he hates the Führer. Mama says it's not allowed, that bad things will happen to him if anyone catches him saying it. They say that at HitlerJugend, too. They tell them how they must respect Hitler, must follow all his commands, and never say anything against it.

But Henry can't help it. How's he supposed to respect someone who starts wars?

And Henry knows a war has been started. Mama might not let him listen to the radio but that doesn't mean he doesn't hear things. Mostly, he gets his information of Rudy, his friend telling him everything he overheard the night before when his parents thought he was asleep.

Still, Mama tells him he has to go, that it's practically _law_ and that all the sighs, and scoffs, and face pulling aren't going to persuade her otherwise.

He likes to think the ruined uniform is some kind of rebellion. When they have Hitlerjugend again the next day, Mama has to have Henry's uniform washed and dried before Henry's off out. The guilt of his actions doesn't set in until he lingers by the kitchen doorway, watching as she scrubs and scrubs and scrubs in an effort to have the stains removed. There is some shame that sneaks in when he sees her stressing over it but it goes the next day, when she's urging him out of the door, and the cycle starts all over again.

He spies his ball in the gutter, running over to it and picking it up. He twirls it in his hand, the mud- and whatever else- staining his hands. Mama will tell him to wash before he eats.

He's about to walk away when a groan sounds from somewhere nearby him. Frowning and turning, his eyes scan along the road and there's nothing. No drunk old man leaning against the wall, nothing.

Biting his lip, he tosses the ball back into the gutter, walking over to the gate to the field, leaning against it, feeling the cold under his hands, when he sees it. In a bush- not far away- a foot sticking out.

Henry doesn't know what to do. He could pick up his ball and leave, pretend he never saw anything, or he could see who it is, what's wrong him them.

Mama taught him that he should always help people, no matter what, but she also said how he should stay away from strangers. What one does he choose?

The person groans again, louder this time and Henry summarises that he's in some sort of pain.

That's what does it for him. Throwing "stranger" out of the window as he begins to climb over the fence. He lands with a thud, falling into his hands before standing up right and wiping the soil against his shirt and moving towards the bush.

His steps are slow, unsure. He wonders if he should speak. The person might not know he's there.

And he does so. A little, meek voice coming out. "Hallo?"

"Hell-...Hell-p- me…"

Henry's eyes widen as he walks closer. Heart thudding in his tiny chest. Perhaps he should run back- No! He's here now. Might as well go all the way.

He reaches the bush, the foot lying right next to his own.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice no different from before.

"Need...help." the man chokes- or at least Henry thinks it's a man, if sounds like a man. "Pleas."

Henry grips a twig shielding him from the man, it's thorns digging into his skin as he moves the plant out of the way. And there he sees it. A man, pale, lying on the ground, with a giant hole in his leg.

Henry gasps, eyes widening as he looks at the person. And for a moment, he's frozen, unsure what to do. But the man croaks out another breaking _hell-p_ and that restarts Henry. He nods, _I'll go get my mama,_ it's automatic- who else would he get? So he runs back, jumping back over the fence and running up the slope, when he's closer to his house, it's then he begins shouting _Mama!_ And his mother is out of the door in a second.

….:...:...

Everything runs through her mind when she hears Henry shout her. It's rushed and panicky and there's a moment when she thinks he's hurt or maybe his ball has busted next door's window (it wouldn't be the first time) or the soldiers came and Henry got in the way and is suffering because of it.

It's that last thought that has her running out of the house, not even glancing a look out of the tiny window, just saying to get the chance to explain what happened before Henry throws himself into more trouble.

But when she opens the door, there's nothing. Nothing but Henry standing there, a panting mess, staring at her. Relief spreads through her when she realises he's alone and unhurt, though she definitely has something to say about that uniform. Before she gets the chance however, Henry's speaking.

"There's a man..." he explains, between pants. "In the field. He's...he's hurt."

Regina sighs. Why should she care? Why does he care? _Because you raised him to care._ Well, he shouldn't care about this one. He's probably just some drunk old man stuck in a bush. She tells Henry as much.

"Henry, it's not our problem.'' But Henry's shaking his head, telling her no.

"It _isn't_ , Henry. Now come inside and get that uniform off. It's filthy."

She goes to walk back inside herself, before Henry's halting her. It appears he's as stubborn as she is.

"Mama, we have to help him. He's got a giant hole in his leg and he's gonna _die_."

Her lips worms itself way between her teeth as she leans against the front door, eyes leading back to Henry as the boy stands there, ball by his feet, clothes a complete mess- something she should start on cleaning- but his eyes are full of pleading. Whoever he thinks this man is, he knows it's someone who really needs their- her- help and depending on how 'giant' the hole in his leg really is, Regina could have him stitched up and out in a couple of hours, no problems caused.

"Fine." she sighs and Henry's eyes light up. "Show me where he is."

...:...:...

His leg is throbbing. He'd been hoping it had gone numb by now, hoping maybe shock would have kicked in, maybe that way, each breath wouldn't be feeling so pained.

He wonders where that boy's gone. The little German one, the one who said he'd go get his 'mama'. If he even is. Maybe the lad heard his accent, that heard all that _Englishness_ and went to get someone to finishes him off. Robin wouldn't mind, though, not now. Would do anything for this pain to go away, even if it involves death.

He thought sleeping would help. He walked as far as he could, each step giving off more pain, more throbbing, than the next, but he'd dragged and limped himself through the empty town until he found himself at this field and by this bush.

He's got no idea who shot him, he realises. Hadn't given it much thought as he buckled over in pain, leg on fire as he saw the blood pool. He'd look around and nothing, nobody, it was like a ghost shot him or something. Ridiculous, ghosts aren't real. It was a man who shot him. German, English...he doesn't know. Anyone shoots anyone now, opponent side or not. Perhaps Robin should thank the man, if he lives through this and ever sees him, should thank him; Robin's not going back to war anytime soon.

Still, if it does survive this, he probably won't last long. He's an Englishman in the enemy's country. It might not Berlin- _or is it?_ , he doesn't know- but his time here won't be long.

Hopefully the boy does bring someone back to kill him, if his leg doesn't do it first.

Is he dying, he wonders. Sure, his gaze goes fuzzy at times, feels weak, but he expected more. Expected to see the colours of the world more, but he can barely focus on them (that fuzzy gaze going from 'at times' to 'more frequent') the sky is still just that same greyish colour and the grass and stones are hard beneath him. It's all ordinary. Nothing special. Nothing different.

 _He's this way._

His ears perk at the voice, the voice that sounds familiar... _The boy!_ This is it, Robin thinks. A little boy is leading him to death. He shuts his eyes- he always wanted to die in his sleep, after all- but as soon as those eyes close another little boy appears. A little boy with curly hair and big brown eyes. A little boy miles away from him. _Roland._

In all the time he's been away from his son, he's never once cried. Sure, he's wanted to, felt that lump form when he went to sleep every night, but he'd just manage to stop himself. Roland wouldn't want him to cry.

But now, now when he's metres away from death, in another country he's not even sure where, does he feel moisture by his eyes, only then does he cry for the little boy who'll never see him again.

 _We've got to help him._

Robin relaxes his eyes slightly, pushes the image of his son away, tries to focus on the words being said has is heart thumps in his chest. _Help,_ the boy said. He does want to help.

 _Look, Mama. You can help him._

Mama. So he had gone to get his mother. Despite what he said earlier, relief spreads through him. He might have a chance yet. Might have a chance to see his boy once more.

 _I can't carry him, Henry._

No, it's okay, Robin wants to shout. He can walk himself. He got here. He's had his rest. He can walk.

 _We can try. I'll help!_

Robin hears muffled footsteps run forwards him, feels a shadow cast over his face, and finally a little hand on his arm, shaking him.

He opens his eyes and finds himself looking at the boy, face dirty and brown eyes determined.

"Look, Mama!" the boy shouts. "Look, he's alive. He's still alive." The boy looks back down at him. "You need to get up," he tells him. "Mama will help you, she's good at helping people."

Robin nods, places a palm down on the dirt and another on the boy's hand as he tries to pull himself up. As he does so, his head goes dizzy, he wants to lie back down but the boy isn't letting him it seems, he's got his own little hand wrapped around Robin's wrist, using all his strength the pull the man up.

Robin brings his good leg up, keeping the bad on straight on the floor, foot planted on the grass as he uses the boy and his own hand to push him up onto his feet. He stumbles a bit, careful of that other leg, and the woman- the boy's mother- is running over to them, bring his arm over her shoulder as the boy- _Henry_ \- does the same and all together they help Robin walk away from the bush, Robin helping as much as he can, keep his bad leg off the ground and hoping along.

"We've got to get him over the wall." Henry says and his mother nods. Robin sees the wall, a small little thing, they'll be able to do it. It's the hill he can see that daunts him. Leading up, it's long, it'll take ages to get up.

His vision goes cloudy, he doesn't have long, his leg still thudding, feels himself growing hot, sweat gathering. He's going slack, losing consciousness as the world grows smaller and smaller before nothing.


	2. Chapter One

**I just wanna say thank you to** _ **Clare**_ **for her review and reblog message/tags on Tumblr. Literally, still dying over them now. She also gave me the idea for how this chapter ends. Hope you like it :)**

He stays in and out of consciousness. The days all forming into one. He doesn't know how many have passed since the boy found him. All he knows is he can occasionally feel something wet on his forehead- a towel or something. Or he can feel someone fidgeting with his leg. Either way there's always someone around him, always someone fussing over him. The pain has gone, he realises in those awake moments. His leg just aches now and he wonders if it'll always do that. Will it just become a part of his life?

He wakes, fully, a few days later. Eyes heavy but his body feeling somewhat well rested. _Overslept,_ he thinks. Nights before his leg injury being spent going to bed too late and getting up too early, and his body is protesting against the wave of sleep.

His leg is still aching but it doesn't bother him; instils some faith in him that the ache might eventually leave.

It's morning, he gathers, from the sunlight streaming through the tiny cloth covering the window, functioning as some sort of curtain. He doesn't know what time it is. Midday, perhaps? Distantly, he can hear someone moving around a few feet away; pans clinking together, something bubbling. Food, maybe.

His stomach grumbles at that, twisting, making its emptiness be known. It's been a while since he'd eaten- not since a few hours before being shot and, for all he knows, that could have been days ago.

Still, he's not ready to make his consciousness known yet, so he snuggles deeper into the covers. He'd been given a bed and it's surprisingly comfortable for whatever shack the boy and his mother live in. He hadn't gotten a proper glimpse of the place yet. When he awoke through those days, he was met with dark walls and shadows; outlines of the other objects far away.

He pulls the covers up more, turning his head into the pillow and he gets a whiff of it. Something soapy with a scent of something natural- maybe it's her scent? Well, whatever or whoever it belongs to, it's comforting, makes him feel safe-...What is he saying? He's probably still delusional or something. Still, he buries his nose deeper into the pillow, inhaling the smell.

The noise around him has stopped and he gets the sense that someone is standing there, staring at him. Slowly he opens his eyes, blinking a few times before his vision clears when he spots her standing there, a few feet away, holding a bowl and waiting for him.

He moves to rest on his elbows, head spinning from laying down for all long, sending nausea mixed with an empty stomach through his body. He tries swallowing but his throat burns, a lack of water and when he tries to tell her so, the words are croaky, painful, but she gets the hint anyway. Scurrying to put the bowl on the bedside table and hurry to get him a drink.

Robin gets a look at the food she's prepared; potatoes swimming in water and possibly milk, with a few bits of meat and vegetables mixed in. He hums appreciatively. It might not be much but, right now, he guesses his stomach will take anything.

She comes back, handing him the glass which he takes, downing it in one before placing it on the table and bringing the bowl into his lap. There's a moment where he questions whether he should eat in someone else's bed, would it be rude? But the woman says nothing, just stands there fidgeting with the glass she'd taken off the table, staring into space.

He pays no more attention to her, though. The smell of the food taking over him. The need to eat. He fits as much as he can onto the spoon, bringing it to his mouth as he chews. It's not the best food he's tasted, but with what she has to work with, it's good, will do the job for however long. So he keeps going and perhaps his stomach protests just as his body did with too much sleep, but he ignores it, even if he was eating horse shit, he'd still eat it all up, regardless.

"It's good." he says to the woman. He really needs to find out her name.

But it's enough to bring her out of her trace, at least. And she smiles, whispers a _thank you,_ before coming to sit down on the edge of the bed, still fidgeting with the glass in her hand.

Robin looks at her, slowing his eating down considerably, as he waits for her to say something.

"Do you know how long you've been asleep for?"

Robin shrugs, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth. "Not really. A long time, I guess?"

"Three days." she says with a little smile before looking away. "I thought you'd died at first, was going to leave you by the wall, but Henry said that we had to carry you up the hill anyway." She smiles again at that, and Robin finds himself smiling too. "It's a good job he did." she adds.

He finishes the soup, his stomach desperately wanting more but he's not going to ask; he'll eat what he's given and not complain, it's only polite.

He places the empty bowl back on the table, then brings his hands into his lap, lacing his fingers together. Perhaps he should have kept hold of the bowl, might have given him something for his hands to do.

"So," Robin says, breaking the silence at had awkwardly formed. "How old his Henry?"

"Ten." he says, almost immediately. "He turned it last August."

Robin nods, wonders if he should tell her of Roland, how he'd just turned four...the day before Robin was sent to Germany. There's a guilt that forms. He should have said no, should have just stayed where he was with his son. Does Roland think about him? Wonder where he is? When he's coming home? Or does he just go on about his life, playing in the street with his friends. Robin guesses he'll never know.

Another silence passes over them again. Just the sounds of, what Robin assumes, is Henry upstairs.

Robin's the one to break the quiet again, though. "I assume you have a name?"

She drums her finger against the cup, the nail tinkering off it. "Yes, I suppose I do." she says then turns her head to look at him. "It's Regina."

" _Regina_." He tries to keep the surprise out of his voice but he doesn't quite manage it, the look she gives him, telling him all. "I'm sorry." he says, shifting as much as he can. "I just expected something less..." He trails off, eyes glancing around the room and she's seemed to have gotten the wrong idea when she says,

"I know," own eyes looking around the room, too. "My mother liked irony it seems."

Guilt rides up in him then, for insulting her. "It's nice. Cosy."

She gives him a little smile for his efforts. "It does the job." She changes the subject. Steering it away from sensitive things such as homes and asks, "And what about you? Do you have a name?"

"Ro-"

He's interrupted by a ball bouncing down the stairs and Henry following it. Both his and Regina's attention goes towards the sound and before Robin can resume with his answer, Regina's focus is taken completely.

"Not so fast, young man." she calls, and Henry pauses, brings down the hand that was just about to unlock the front door, before turning, and throwing a sigh towards his mother.

"I promised Rudy yesterday we'd play football."

Regina doesn't say anything, just stands from the bed and heads over to the table, picking up a discarded shirt and hanging it in Henry's direction.

"And this?" is all she says.

Henry doesn't have an answer, just looks down at the ground and shuffles his feet. Robin can't help but smirk, however awkward he may feel in this moment, he can remember acting in the same way when it came to his school clothes.

"We're going to set some new rules into this house," Regina says, throwing the shirt back onto the table. Henry groans, his childish protest of _Whhhyyyy?_ being interrupted.

"You don't take your ball with you anymore." she tells him. "And when you come home, you get changed. _Then_ you can play outside."

Henry nods but Robin wonders if he's even listening.

"Can I play outside now?" he asks. It's hesitant, testing how far he can go before his mother snaps.

"Only if you'll promise me you'll follow the rules."

Henry smiles, "I promise."

Regina sighs, shaking her head, but leaning over to open the door for him anyway. Regaining his grip on the ball, Henry's off out.

"And tell Rudy the same thing!" Regina shouts and if Henry replies, neither hear it before the doors being shut.

She walks back over to the bed, picking up the empty bowel and heading into the kitchen.

"Has he always been like that?" Robin asks, watching as she potters about.

Regina shrugs. "He's a good kid," she says, wiping down the surfaces and Robin wonders how many times a day she cleans the same countertops, even when they don't have to be cleaned. The words _Kinder, Küche,_ and _Kirche_ entering his mind as he wonders how they work for Regina when she's the only parent around, her child's only source of income. Of course, this isn't the first time he wondered what happened to the boy's father.

"It's just hard for him," she carries on saying. "And he likes to tell me how hard it is with his little acts of defiance." She nods towards the mud-stained shirt. "But he's happy, at least. For now." she leans against the counters, stares down at the cloth she twists around her fingers. "There's not a day he doesn't go without smiling at least once."

Robin nods, thinks back to his own boy and his smiles; toothless little grins. Robin understands. Roland has his own little acts of resistances, things he'll do when he doesn't like something. Yes, he understands where Regina's coming from a lot.

...:...:...

It's strange. Talking to someone about her child. Most people don't care, more interested in what their own are getting up to. But this man seems interested, seems to somewhat care about Henry.

There's something about him. Something about the way he makes her want to tell him everything. Every secret she has, every thought she has, everything. It's ridiculous. They're not supposed to be friendly with each other. Enemies, that's how they're supposed to see each other. And maybe he does. Maybe this is a way to gain information or something. But why from her? Why from a single mother with an ironic name, in a street they should have named _Scheisse_ Street. No, he's not after information. Something else, maybe.

Still, it's nice. It's nice having someone other than a ten year old to talk to. She's missed it. A lot more than she'd like to admit.

She also wonders when _that_ question will come. How long will it take before curiosity gets the better of him, and he can't help himself.

"Robin."

She frowns and stares at him. "What?"

"My name. Robin."

Oh. Right, yeah. His name. She forgot about that.

"Well, it's a good job we know each other then," she says. She spies the clothes sitting on top of the table, summarises that she should begin to sort it out, lest she have a mob of angry rich people on her doorstep, demanding for their clothes. "We'll be spending some time together."

"How long are you planning on keeping me here?" he asks.

"Well," she begins, turning to face him. "You're leg will take some time to heal before you can put your weight on it. Until then, you're stuck in bed." she turns back to her clothes, beginning to place them into piles of who they belong to.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"Henry's room, for now. I was going to put you in the basement but it's too cold down there, especially for your leg to heal properly."

She'd laid him on the table at first, while she stopped the blood and tended to his leg, stitching him up. After that, with the help of Henry, they moved him to her bed. Henry was willing to give up his when Regina told him he couldn't stay in the basement, but she'd taken a glance at the stairs. The hill might have been steep but at least it was somewhat level. The stairs...With just the two of them, they had no chance and Regina wasn't getting anyone else involved. It was too risky.

She understood the dangers of what she was doing. Some would argue harbouring an Englishman fighting in the war was as a severe crime as harbouring a Jew. Not that neither were serious crimes, mind. Still, Regina didn't make the rules.

So she'd put him in her bed. It might not have been appropriate but it was far more easier than trying to get an unconscious man up a set of stairs.

She'd stayed up with him for that first night. Sent Henry to bed regardless of how much he protested, and Regina had stayed awake. Sitting by the bed, checking him every hour or so until she'd fell asleep early in the morning and Henry woke her up.

She finishes her final pile. Glancing a look at the clock above the fire and sighing. She needs to get these clothes delivered fast.

"I'll be back soon," she says, placing the clothes into the bag. "I'll tell Henry to come back inside. You'll be fine here?"

She turns in time to see Robin nod. "I should be." Then he glances down at his leg hidden under the covers. "I don't think I'm going anywhere." Regina laughs, begins to pick up the bags before Robin halts her. "But could I have a book?"

She looks around the room. Most of the books here are German, barely nothing in full English except a bible. Guess that'll have to do.

"I have a bible," she tells him, making a detour towards the bookshelf. "Everything else is in German."

"That'll have to do then."

She walks over to him, handing it over which he takes, placing it on his lap.

"I shouldn't be long." She walks back over to the bags, about to reach down and pick them up then the doors bursts open.

"Mama!" Henry shouts, bull-dozing into the house, the door bouncing off the wall, enough to make Regina cringe and Robin jump. "Mama, _hilfe_!" his voice is full of panic, eyes filled with shock and terror. "They've taken Paige's family!"


	3. Chapter Two

**It kinda turned Blood Brothers-ey towards the end but I'd had it planned for some time. More was supposed to be added onto Regina's POV but its late and I've been writing for about 3 hours now so I'll just add it onto the next chapter, no worries. Also, I don't know how accurate Google Translate so if I have any German wrong in this (for those who understand it) I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it :)**

"Henry, _hier_!"

Henry places his foot on the ball, tongue between his teeth as he lines up, spying Rudy a few feet away from the two people currently trying to block him. It'll be easier to pass to Will, he thinks, the boy somewhat off to the side, standing awkwardly. But Rudy jumping, shouting " _Hier_! _Hier_ _,_ _saumensch_!" So Henry takes his chances, kicking the ball in Rudy's direction. It sails past the two defenders, heading up into the air, and Henry smirks as it comes back down to earth and smacks Rudy in the face. That'll teach him to call Henry a _bastard._

Rudy cries out in pain, hand over his nose as everyone runs towards him, checking if he's okay, Rudy shakes them off, claiming _es geht mir gut_ and telling everyone to get on with the game even as blood drips down from his nose.

Perhaps Henry should feel guilty for hurting his friend, but he doesn't. That's how it's been between him and Rudy since they were small- the first time they ever met, they fought over blocks.

The game continues. The ball being kicked between Rudy and Henry as other's scramble to get it. One of the girls out hurt when she slipped and her calf grazed Andy Diller's shoe but she was okay, didn't cry out like a baby like Rudy did, just limped off to the side as her sister tended to her.

It doesn't seem like they've been playing for long. The sound of people laughing, shoes hitting against the concrete as girls skip, the ball hitting walls and the side of houses. It just seems like a normal day and if the atmosphere changes, nobody notices it, they just carry on playing their games, skipping, hopscotch, kicking the ball from one person to the next until Andy Diller kicks the ball towards Rudy and the boy misses. They all look to see it roll down the hill and in its place; soldiers.

Henry's blood runs cold. The last time the soldiers came everyone was indoors, they only listened to the sounds of a scuffle outside, shouting, fighting, the shout of a beating. Henry went to look out of the window until Mama grabbed him back, telling him _nein_ and Henry stamped on his curiosity. Mama knew what was happening, though, Henry knew of it. She'd cringe whenever someone would shout _Ich möchte bleiben_ ; I don't want to go. Mama didn't want to talk about it. No matter how much Henry persisted, how many questions he asked, she wouldn't say what any of it meant, just threatened that she send him to bed early if he kept going on about it, finishing off her sentence with, _Jetzt essen_. And Henry dug into his food, a scowl on his face and no longer hungry.

Everyone stops what they're doing, just stare as the soldiers- five, Henry counts, not that many, but it doesn't make him feel any safer.

As they come closer, everyone scrambles to get out of the way, running to the sides as the soldiers look down at them. Henry hates it. Hates the way they look down on them like they're nothing. So what if they live in a rough part, so what if they don't have much money. They're a family, everyone has everyone's back, that's what matters.

Or so Henry thinks.

He watches as, what he assumes is their leader, come forward. A tall boy who looks no older than Andy Diller, he cocks his head towards the nearest house and Henry's throat goes dry, his heart thumping as the soldier bangs on the door. That's Paige's house.

There's no answer from those inside and Henry hopes they're out, thinks back to that other family and they're screams and pleads, Mama's distance look...His hand clenches into a fist as they bash the door down and all five of them are running inside.

Henry doesn't understand it. They haven't done anything wrong. They keep to themselves, are nice to everyone around them. Why are they getting dragged out of their own house? His gaze flicks over to his own, to the window that's empty, will they be taken too?

His attention is brought back to the scene, the cries of Paige, tears streaming down her eyes as she shouts _nein_ again and again until one of the soldiers, a smaller one with dark hair punches her in the face, knocking her to the ground and Henry has the impulse to run over there and help her up but there's a hand that grabs his wrist and he frowns, looking to the side and finding one of the girls- Violet, he thinks her name is- standing next to him, completely transfixed on the scene in front of them. Whether she somehow knew of his urge or it was just a reflex, he doesn't know, but he does know.

Her father fights them, her mother silent, almost not there, but they twist his arm, shouting _Jüdisches Schwein._

As they bundle the family towards to waiting soldiers, the leader turns to the dark haired one- the one who punched Paige- and Henry overhears him tell the man, "Start a house search," he says and Henry glances towards his own, wondering what will happen if they find the English man inside. He gulps, feeling sick, what will happen to Mama? "I want every house checked for the bastards; every attic, every basement, every room. Tip the house upside if you have to." The dark haired soldier nods, running over to the nearest house and banging on the door. The leader turns, addresses everyone gathered.

"I want you to go back into your houses." he says and the children run towards their homes, needing no more commands. Once Violet's hand is off his wrists, Henry runs towards his house, opening the door. It bangs against the wall and he sees Mama cringe and the man jumped but he doesn't care, all he cares about is what happened.

"Mama, they've taken Paige's family."

Mama looks at him for a second before walking over to the window in the kitchen. Henry shuts the door, coming to stand by the table, his heart thumping as he looks over towards the man in the bed and says, "They said they're gonna do a house search." he tells her. Panic seizes him then, he can't help it. "Mama, why are they coming into our house?"

She comes over to him them, bringing him to her and Henry goes willingly, closing his eyes as he takes in his mother's comfort, until that moment, he thought he wouldn't need it anymore, stopped seeking it out when he turned ten. He wouldn't admit it but the soldiers scared him, even the ones at Hitlerjugend, and now they were going to break into their houses and mess the place up and hurt Mama when they see the Englishman. But Mama has other ideas, she gently pushes Henry away from her, tells him to wipe his eyes then walks over to the man.

She pushes him down against the pillows and says in a not-so-gentle voice, _sei ruhig,_ placing a finger against her lips. The man nods, pushing himself further down into the bedding. Straight after, there's a banging on the door, and Henry's lip worms its way between his teeth and Mama throws him a look and goes to answer the door.

It's the leader that enters, two other soldiers following him. He knocks the door against the wall as he enters that it really hits Mama in the face and Henry almost gasps, but keeps quiet. With their backs to her, Mama throws them a dirty look and shuts the door before coming to stand next to Henry, her hand gripping his arm and bringing him closer to her, while the man stays quiet, eyes closed.

" _Suche_." the leader says and the two men take off down the basement. The leader stays, survying the room until his eyes land on the man in the bed and Henry waits, keeps Mama's hand grip tighter around his arm and he wonders if that's what girls do then they're afraid.

The leader looks at Mama, asks, "Who's that?"

Mama's surprisingly quick with her answer. "My husband." she says, and the leader nods, walking over to Mama's bed and pulling the curtain back slightly.

" _Was ist los mit dir, freund?"_

The man opens his eyes, looks to the soldier with a bewildered look on his face. _He doesn't know German!_ But Mama saves him.

"Leg injury."

The leader stays looking at the man as he nods. " _Wie_?"

"Factory accident."

The soldier nods, then laughs and Henry's hearts still thumping. Why would he laugh? Does he know? Know it's all a lie? He hopes not.

"Does she always do the talking?"

"He's a mute."

" _Ist er_?"

Before anyone can answer though, the basement door is opening again as the two soldiers run into the room again.

" _Nichts_." one of them says. "Nothing."

The leader nods, still staring at the Englishman. Mama's released her grip on his arm now, her fingers lacing together as she watches on.

"Peter?" one of the soldiers say and the leader nods again, moves his gaze away from the man and turns to leave the house, but not before throwing a wink towards Mama, one she scowls at once his back is turned.

When the door slams shut and the soldiers far away, it's then that the man speaks.

"Well," he begins. "That could've gone worse."

And Henry can't help it. Let's out a laugh as relief spreads through him. The man also laughs and Mama smiles and Henry's just grateful that they get to live another day.

...:...:...

It's a few hours later after the Nazi's visits, from what Robin had heard (or not heard) the streets had been quiet, everyone choosing to stay inside. Henry had told them the tale of the Schmidt family, how they were dragged out of their house. _Jewish,_ Robin thinks. It's surprising they lasted this long.

Regina had left shortly, telling Henry to look after Robin, the boy learning of his name and being somewhat in awe of it, saying how hardly anyone was called that round here and while Henry was impressed by its uniqueness, Robin was less so. Just another thing to make him an outcast here.

He spent most of the time reading the bible Regina had given him before, he wasn't religious but when there was nothing else to do but lay in bed all day, it had its uses.

He hopes he's out of it soon, hope his leg will heal quickly. While the bed is warm and comforting, Robin was never one to be kept in one place, always longing for somewhere else, a new adventure. Well, he certainly got his wish here, didn't he.

Roland inherited Robin's adventurous side. Before the war, they spent many days camping out in a nearby woods; fishing, setting up fires, star gazing...It might not have been the real thing- they're house five minutes away- but it was fun. Roland enjoyed it. Marian protested the first time he'd suggested the idea, said how a boy of two was too young to be outside in a cold woods- that had been the first of many arguments. He wonders if he had known. Known about the disease that wouldn't leave her body, would they had argued as much?

"What happens if you're found here?"

Henry's voice brings him out of his thoughts, and he's happy for the distraction, the thought of his late wife and lost son leaving a painful ache in his chest.

"I suppose I'll be sent back to England." _I'll be killed,_ Robin thinks but the boy doesn't need to know that.

"What will happen to Mama?"

He doesn't answer that one. _You're mama will be killed, too. Or worse._ But he thinks Henry already knows that.

The lad leaves his word game, pushes away from the table and walks into his mother's space, leaning against the table by the wall. "Will they do what they did to Paige?" he asks, voice meek sounding, fear in his brown eyes.

Robin shrugs, closing the bible and putting it to the side. "I'm not sure." he says, heart feeling heavy right now. The boy fears for his mother and it's all Robin's fault.

"They'll come for her soon, won't they?"

Robin frowns, sitting forward. "Is she Jewish?" he asks.

Henry shakes his head, eyes downcast. "I don't think so." he says. "But she's..." he looks at Robin then, the glummest expression on his face and it breaks him. "She's different. She hasn't got blonde hair or blue eyes. And neither do I." His head falls back to the ground again and if it wasn't for this damned leg Robin would be over there in an instant, offering some sort of physical support, but words will have to do for now.

"Henry," he says and the boy looks up, tears in his eyes. "You're mama isn't going anywhere, okay. She's staying here. Nobody's going to take her."

"But they say-"

"I don't care what they say." Robin's voice his firm, but still has that layer of comfort. "They're word isn't right, Henry. You don't have to believe it."

Henry nods, wiping away those tears. He stares Robin dead in the eyes. "Promise me you'll protect her," he says, the tone in his voice telling Robin that he doesn't have a choice. "That if they come for her, you'll protect her, and fight them."

He won't lie to be boy, but he can't say it's impossible, either. So he settles for a, "I'll try. I promise you, I'll try." And the boy seems to settle for that. The fire leaving his eyes as he walks back over to the table, sitting down on the chair and going back to her word game.

Robin watches, his heart aching for the little ten year old boy who'd do anything to save his mother.

...:...:...

It's nearing darkness as she reaches her last house, the last bag in her hand. She left it too late, she thinks. She'd already got snide comments from her customers, the rich families that actually bothered to come to her door. They'd snatched their bags off her, remarked on _the poor having too much time on their hands,_ dropping the money into her hands (considerably less than the other day) and slammed the door in her face. Regina's scowls, picking the other bags off the floor and stomping down the steps, not even bothering the lock the gates behind her. Seems like she has her own acts of defiance, too.

She reaches the final house. The Nolans, with their little windmill in the garden, it's panels spinning with the light wind that blows. She knocks on the door, three times, and not a moment later does it open, the Nolans housekeeper at the door- Charlotte, Regina thinks her name is, a little Jewish girl, protected by her loyalty to this family. Regina hands her the bags, and in return, the girl gives her her money (the right amount, despite the late delivery) and Regina's off down the steps, prepared to lock the gate for this family.

"Miss Mills."

The stops before the gate, turning around and finding Mary Margaret Nolan standing at the door, Charlotte gone from sight. Regina frowns, walks towards the steps again, wondering why this woman would want to talk to her.

"Yes?"

The woman shuts the door behind her, climbing down the steps and coming to stand in front of Regina and Regina keeps her posture up, those words her Mother drilled into her entering her mind, anything not to give this woman another reason to look down on her.

"How would you like to have dinner here one day?"

Being taken aback is an understatement, Regina thinks. Why on earth is this woman asking if she'd liked to have dinner with her?

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I know it's sudden," the other woman says. _You think?_ "But we heard about your son, Henry, and well we have our own little boy, about the same age. Perhaps your son would like to meet him?"

The immediate thought is to say no. Henry has friends, friends who love him and wouldn't hurt him, he doesn't need to know some spoilt rich _kind_ but the thought of proper food, of a meal that would leave them stated for days, something different for a change, it has her saying _yes_.

The woman smiles, all bright and happy and Regina wonders if she means it. "Well, it's sorted then. Thursday?"

Regina nods, saying _Thursday is fine_ and Mrs Nolan smiles once more, before retreating back into her house.

As she makes her way back to Glücklich Street, she can't help but wonder why this woman would choose to invite _her_ of all people. There are much nicer people, much richer people. What does this woman want with a single mother from _Happy_ Street? Regina guesses she'll find out on Thursday, but right now she needs to get home and comfort her son from any nightmares that are bound to come after today's events.


	4. Chapter Three

**Welcome, to the longest chapter so far; 4,020 words *sigh* Fun fact, Henry's POV was only supposed to be in the prologue yet I think it's been featured in every chapter, but ah well, it's nice writing him. I had some complications with this, such a wondering whether to make a certain character a certain character but I just decided for him not to be in the chapter. This is angsty, and feel are probably not gonna like me for it but angst is fun. Anyway, read it here or on and I hope you enjoy it regardless :)**

He wakes to the sound of a door being slammed, an unwelcomed noise disturbing his restful sleep. Eyes still closed, he hears someone fumbling around- Regina- the words _scheisse_ and _saumensch_ not-so-whispered as she bumps into a chair, trying to find her way around in the dark.

He smirks, beginning to open his eyes to see the outline of her now looking for a match. He sits up as she finds one, his leg in a slight ache (his hopes for that ache to leave were futitle, it seems) and watches as she finds one, and placing it on the candle, the room being cast in a soft glow.

"I sent Henry to bed." he says, his voice feeling slightly hoarse from sleep. He sees Regina jerk- he thinks perhaps he should have announced his presence in a different way- and turns around.

"Didn't realise you were awake."

Robin smiles at that. "Well," he says. "You weren't exactly quiet entering."

She glances towards the misplaced chair, offering a soft laugh. "No, I wasn't." She picks up the candle stick then, bringing it over to where he is and placing it on the table.

Robin swallows when he realises what she's doing, shuffles towards the other end of the bed as Regina sits and pulls her legs onto it, kicking off her shoes and pulling her band out of her hair, launching it somewhere. Robin watches, eyes wide and his lip between his teeth as dark waves tumble down, his fingers itching to touch as she lays down.

He's got eyes. Knows a beautiful woman when he sees one, and Regina most certainly fits that description. He'd known it when he first woke from his coma and found his own version of a German angel standing there, holding a yellow bowl.

Minutes later, her breathing evens out. She's asleep...Now what does he do? This isn't really appropriate, lying in bed next to a man you barely know and they do barely know each other; their knowledge of each other doesn't extend past first names, they don't even know how old each other are! Not that it matters, once his leg is fully healed he'll be out of here, and if she doesn't kick him out then he'll take himself out.

But he finds he doesn't want to leave. Leave and see his son, yes, of course. If the opportunity came up tomorrow he'd be out of here in a second. But leave here and potentially be homeless? No, he doesn't want that.

Now, though, he has this problem. He could wake her up but he doesn't want to do that; he knows well enough that broken sleep is worse than little sleep. But he finds he know has a little bladder problem; a sudden urge to piss.

He'd spent most of his time peeing in a bowl, his leg still not ready to support his body (he'd overheard Regina say something about a shattered bone and, well, that explains a lot) Regina would then come over and empty it out with no fuss. When he'd ask why she never complained, her simple response was, _I was in labour for three days, and saw a lot of blood. Piss doesn't bother me._

And while emptying his contents down the drain might not have been a problem for her, he still doesn't feel comfortable pissing next to her. He eyes the back door, wonders if he could make it to the toilet outside, but at that moment, the ache in his leg chooses to intensify, sends little shocks of pain up his leg. _No,_ he thinks. He won't make it to the toilet. Shit.

Robin sighs, comes to terms with just having to sleep through it. He's about to move down the bed to lie down when he notices Regina hasn't got a cover on her and she has curled herself into a ball of sorts. Robin reaches down the bed, brings up the spare blanket and drapes it over her. It should be enough for one night. He then pushes himself down the bed and shuffles further away so he's somewhat near the edge of the bed, giving Regina as much space as she needs. As his eyes close (tries focusing on anything but his full bladder) he wonders if he should blow the candle out. _But that would involve leaning over Regina_ , he thinks and as inappropriate as this is, he doesn't want her to wake up and leave just yet, finds he quite likes her there (thinks he shouldn't really be liking given the circumstances) but still, he's loathe to let her go. So no, he won't extinguish the candle.

Now it was just the matter of falling asleep with his bladder. God forbid if he wets the bed.

...:...:...

She can feel the cold- the way it nips at her exposed hand. But it's warm under this blanket and there's something warm beneath her, too. She opens her eyes, pupils adjusting to the light that shines through the gap by the window. It's no earlier than dawn, she thinks.

Regina gives a glance around the room. She's downstairs, in her own bed, her head pillowed by a soft chest.

Why is she lying one somebody's chest?

She moves her head up and sees him; Robin, asleep on her back. One hand lying on the pillow that Regina fell asleep on. The other- she feels more than sees- is against her hip, nails digging into her side through her clothes...clothes she fell _asleep_ in. God, she hadn't even bothered to changed?

She realises she's lying diagnolly when she sits up (or kind of sits up, Robin hand is still clutching her hip). Finds Robin right at the edge of the bed. She wonders if he did that to give her space...and she just went and invaded his.

They need to move. She needs to wake him up. God forbid if Henry comes downstairs and finds them like this. He'll get the wrong idea. She'll get his hopes up. He's already been on her back, telling her she needs to find somebody, now more than ever. She'd nearly spat out her food one time when he said there were buildings she could go to to find someone if she's lonely _which you are_! He'd said. She'd rebuffed his words, telling him that she isn't lonely, she's got him. But not telling him that the places that he's talking about, you go there to make a baby. His own naivety getting mixed up with words heard on the street.

She nudges his shoulder, "Robin," she whispers and nothing. "Robin." she tries again, a little louder and he only grunts, moves his head to the side and Regina lets out a little exsperated sigh. "Robin!' she tries once more, voice still low but not a whisper. "Wake up, _saumensch_." He's still asleep. Regina glances towards the stairs. It's too early for Henry to be awake but he's a light sleeper- always has been- anything could wake him up and they really need to move out of this position.

She looks towards his stomach, moves herself out of the way as much she can. It worked for waking Daniel up, perhaps it'll work for him, too. She clenches her hand into a fist, and brings it up high, wincing slightly as she brings it back down and it makes contact with Robin's stomach. He jerks, eyes opening with a "Bloody hell, what-"

"Good, you're awake." Regina says, voice calm. "Now let me go."

"Wha-?" he looks, seeing Regina lying on top of him, then to his hand still holding onto her hip. He lets go off her completely, pushing himself up as Regina pushes herself away from him, thankful for the freedom.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I somehow managed to sleep on you." Regina says, keeping her voice low as she climbs off the bed, trying to smooth the creases out of her dress. She'll have to change before Henry comes down, she doesn't need him questioning why she's wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

"Oh. Right." Robin says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. She can hear the smile in his voice, and it has her rolling her eyes, letting out a not-so-quiet huff.

"It's not funny, Robin! Henry would have saw us."

He's still smiling despite her admonishment. "But he didn't." he says. "Besides, it's not as bad as you're making it out to be."

"You don't have a ten year old who keeps insisting that you're _lonely_ and should _find someone_." she says as she makes her way over to the cooker, beginning to make the contents that will be their breakfast for the day.

"He cares about you," he tells her. "Doesn't want anything to happen to his mum."

She slows down her mixing, staring off into space as she wonders why he's telling her this. She already knows. Has known since Daniel left and seven year old Henry had proclaimed himself the 'man of the house' and the only one who could protect her.

"He made me promise something," There's reserve in his voice, hesitance. Like he doesn't want to tell her. Regina's hand grips the spoon tighter, eyes flicking towards the ceiling briefly, to where she knows Henry's bed lies with Henry atop of it. "Made me promise him that I'd protect you...from the Nazis." She breathes out, hand gripping the spoon again and she mixes furiously. She's not angry. Or maybe she is. At Robin, at her son; she doesn't know. She feels something, though. Maybe it's shame? Embarrassment? Perhaps it is anger. Her own son doesn't think she can look after herself.

"He had no right," she tells Robin, finally, her attention solely on the porridge in the bowl and she mixes. "I'll tell him that when he comes down."

"Regina, don't-"

"No, I will, Robin!" she cuts in, slamming the bowl down on the counter a little too aggressively. "I don't need my son telling people I'm incapable of looking after myself. Let alone a _stranger's_ promise." If she intended the words to bite and hurt, it worked. He's taken aback, at least, his eyes staring down at the blankets and she can't seem to stop there, regardless.

"Point is, Robin, I've already survived one war." she turns around, twisting dials to get the gas going. "He's barely surviving this one." It's then she realises what's making her like this. It's not shame, or embarrassment, or even anger. It's fear. She can feel it, the tears prickling in her eyes. _Don't cry, dear. It makes you look weak._ Oh, go away _Mutter_ , she wants to scream.

She places the bowl on the stove and leaves it there. She leans against the corner between the two counters, staring at her hands as she picks at the skin.

"He's gonna wake up one day," she says, the words tumbling out. "and say that he wants to be a soldier." she swallows against the lump in her throat, feels Robin's eyes on her. "One day, he's not going to protest when I say he has to go to Hitler Youth because he's going to _want_ to go. Hell, he'll probably be half way out of that door before I even say the first two words." She's getting worked up now, those tears coming faster. Why is she saying all this? Telling him isn't going to make any of it change. Perhaps it's nice not having to keep all your fears locked up inside. Perhaps it's nice having someone other than a ten year old to talk to. She said that all before, didn't she?

"I know what they teach them in there, Robin. I know what they tell them and I know what they're preparing them all for." To be soldiers. To be Nazis. To hurt people. "I know he doesn't agree with it all now, but those words will get into his head. Soon, he's going to be urging them on, perhaps even joining in. He's not going to come running to that door telling me what they're doing house searches. Soon he won't be helping English strangers with gunshot wounds and shattered legs. He won't be doing any of that!" The last words come out a mere sob, and she's crying earnestly now and at the back of her mind she knows she's woken Henry up.

After she manages to calm herself down a bit, Robin speaks.

"That's not Henry, Regina." he says her, voice thick with emotion. "That's not _your_ Henry."

But she shakes her head, arms wrapped around her. "He won't be _my_ Henry anymore." She swallows, loosening her arms from around herself, wiping away her tears. "He'll be Hitler's."

...:...:...

"Why are we going here again?" Henry asks, dragging his feet against the stone covered road.

"Because Mrs Nolan invited us." Mama says, her eyes scanning the big houses they pass.

Mama had told him when he'd woken up that they were going over to Mary Margaret Nolan's house. Henry had instantly asked who, eliciting a bark of laughter from Robin, one he'd immediately silenced when Mama threw him a glare.

"She's one of my costumers." Mama had said and Henry had left it at an _Oh._

He'd planned to play some more football with Rudy today. Tried to worm his way out of going to Mrs Nolan's house with promises of helping more around the house, but Mama told him he was going whether he wanted to or not, leaving Henry in a grumpy mood for the rest of the morning.

He'd noticed something was up with his mother. Her eyes looked slightly red, like she'd been crying. Henry had only seen Mama cry once; those first couple of days after Papa left. He'd sneak downstairs, hide in the shadows by the front door, and listen to her cry. It made him want to cry to- listening to Mama cry, but he hadn't. He was brave.

Something seemed to have shifted between Mama and Robin, too. They seemed less friendly with each other, or, Mama seemed less friendly towards Robin. She'd dropped the bowl of porridge down onto the table next to the bed, instead of handing it to him like she had the other days. She sent more glares his way, too, thinking Henry couldn't see, but he did. Even Robin seemed to have changed when it came to Henry. When Mama went upstairs to find Henry his 'best clothes', Henry had slipped from the table to stand near the bed. When he asked what was wrong with Mama, Robin had just said she was worried.

"She didn't seem worried about anything yesterday."

"Well, today she is, Henry. So just drop it." Robin had shut his eyes then, pretending to be asleep and Henry had slinked away, feeling hurt over Robin's sharp response but he hadn't said anything else.

"Here we are."

Henry looks up. The houses are bigger here than they are on Glücklich Street. With big driveways, most of them holding cars, and big steps leading up to coloured doors, even the fronts have gates.

"Bit fancy, isn't it?"

Mama pauses on unlocking the gate. She turns quickly, making Henry having to take a step back.

"Henry, these are good people," she says, voice firm. "They invited us over for dinner for no reason. You're to smile, and remember you're manners, okay?"

He smiles. It's sarcastic and mean, still has that glimmer of grumpiness to it but Mama just sighs, reaches over to unlock the gate and let Henry through. As soon as he's in front, his face drops back into its glum expression and stays that way as they walk up the steps and Mama knocks on the door.

They wait until Henry sees a shadow behind the curtain and the door opens. A girl with blonde hair and dressed in, what looks like, servant clothes. She smiles and invites them inside and Henry can't resist saying, "They can't even be bothered to answer their own door?"

It earns him a, "Shut up, Henry."

As they walk through the... _hallway?_ their greeted by bright lights, clean polished flooring, and a big set of stairs. Doors line the walls the walls around and Henry has to urge to want to know what's behind them all. A woman- Mrs Nolan, Henry assumes, if his exclamation is anything to go by- exists out of the second door on the right.

"Miss Mills!" she says, all smiling and happy, like she truly cares that they're there. Henry scrunches his nose up at the address, though. Never, in all his ten years, has he heard anyone call his mother 'Miss Mills'. She's mostly Regina to those around them, even Gina to Rudy's papa, but never 'Miss Mills', Henry finds he doesn't like it.

"And Henry, too!" She places her hands against his face, pushing her cheeks closer together as her hands wiggles them. He frowns but makes no move to pull away. Good manners, Mama said. "I'm so happy you could make it." A man exists the room on the other side, carrying a large plate under, what looks like, an upside down bowl. The woman turns to watch the man enter the room she came out of, then turns back towards them. "You're just in time, too. Dinner's ready."

They follow Mrs Nolan into the room the man went in, listening to her babbling on about how happy she is for them to be here. At the table, another boy sits, patiently waiting for his dinner. He looks up when his mother walks in, and smiles at Henry and Mama, but Henry doesn't think he means the smile.

"Henry, this is my son, Neal." He gives the boy a little wave before Mama is ushering him to sit down.

It's only the four of them and the table seems too big. Mrs Nolan and Mama sit at one end, while he and Neal sit at the other. Plates of food sit by them and Henry's never seen so much of everything, half of which he doesn't even know the name of.

Beside is plate sits three sets of forks and his mind is completely confused at the sight. Why does he need three sets of forks? What happened to just one?

Neal picks up the big fork first, begins tucking in to whatever they have in front of them. Henry copies- picking up the big fork and stabbing it into, what he assumes (and hopes), is a potato.

He doesn't like this, would much prefer to be at home, sitting at their normal sized table with Mama and Robin.

"My papa's fighting in the war," Neal says suddenly, causing Henry to look up from his food. "Where's your papa?"

He almost says he doesn't have one, that it's just him and his mother now but he doesn't like the look in the boy's eyes, like he's trying to get one over him, so he lies.

"My papa's also in the war." he says, proudly, and while people may call it lying, Henry has a much nicer name for it; story telling.

"Really?" Neal says, the surprise clearly heard in his voice. "What's he called?"

He could say Daniel. Almost says Daniel. But he doesn't know Daniel, not really. When Mama used to talk to him about his father, he'd nod and say he remembers but truth is, he did that to keep her happy. Daniel is nothing more than a blurred face that a seven year old tries to remember but can't. So he chooses a different name. Chooses somebody else who he definitely knows.

"Robin."

The boy's face crunches at that. "Robin?" he asks. "What sort of a day is that?"

"My papa's name."

"Well, what rank is he?"

Henry freezes. He doesn't know ranks, but he can remember someone saying something about fighting in the front line. So Henry shrugs. "He's fighting in the front line."

"So's my papa. I'll ask him if he knows of _Robin_ when he comes home."

"Fine."

The conversation drops then, both boys going back to their food and Henry finds he doesn't like this Neal so much.

...

It's later, once dinner's finished and Mama's in the main room talking with Mrs Nolan, that Henry manages to sneak away.

He's explored nearly all the rooms downstairs. Slipped in and out of them without anyone seeing. Most of the rooms were empty, nothing inside them except maybe some old furniture. He reaches the last room, hand reaching up to turn the gold doorknob as he pushes inside.

He's found himself in a library, he thinks. A giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling, millions of books lining the room shelves against the wall. He's never seen so many books in his life. They have some at home, mostly children's books from when Mama used to read to him when he was a baby. Henry likes books. Remembers the excitement when Mama taught him how to read and he was finally able to read on his own. He'd soon replaced books for a game of football with his friends but he'd still read, occasionally.

His eyes scan the bookcases as his hand reaches out to touch them-

"What are you doing?"

He retracts his hand quickly, jumping and spinning at the sound of the voice. In the doorway stands a woman with blonde hair, but it's not the same woman as before, this one is different.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear!"

She laughs then, and Henry feels himself relax.

"And I didn't say you did," she says, walking into the room more. "Are you that woman's kid?" she asks.

Henry's eyes narrow. "My name's Henry and she's my mama and if you have anything to say about her-"

"Wow. You are defensive. I'm not going to say anything about your mama." She walks over to Henry then, coming to stand in front of him. "But I am glad you're in here. My mother wanted you to have something." The woman begins to scan the bookcase and Henry steps back, frowning as he wonders what Mrs Nolan could possibly want to give a boy like him.

"I don't know why she wants you to have it," she says as she continues looking. "She just has a soft spot for kids in bad situations."

"I'm not in a bad situation. And I didn't know Mrs Nolan had another kid."

"Right." The woman says, green eyes looking forwards Henry for a moment. "And yep, I'm her other kid. Though, I wouldn't have expected her to mention me." She stops searching, "Ah!" she says, smiling as she reaches forward and fingers out a giant book in the G section. She hands it out towards him. "My name's Emma and these are a book of fairytales."

"Fairytales are for babies." he says, pushing the book away.

"Not these." Emma says, pushing the book back towards him.

"Really?" Henry asks, eyeing up the book, the words _Grimm Märchen_ written on the front. _Grimm Tales,_ Henry thinks, _It doesn't sound for babies._

"Yep." Emma says. "So, will you have it?"

Henry shrugs. "I guess." Henry says, taking the book and it's big, needing two hands to hold it.

Just then, the door opens and both Henry and Emma look to see Mrs Nolan and Mama standing there.

"I thought I'd find you in here," Mrs Nolan says. "And I see Emma gave you the book."

"Yeah," says Henry, feeling considerbly happier than when he first arrived. "Are we going home now?" he asks, looking at his mother.

Mama nods and Henry wishes Emma and Mrs Nolan a goodbye, he even waves to Neal on his way out.

Later, when he's lying in bed, he lights a candle, keeping it close to him as he opens the first page. The title; _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_ written in big text. He begins to read and as he does so, wonders why the Nolans wanted him to have the book anyway.


	5. Chapter Four

**I don't know if Henry's OOC in this, he isn't in my eyes, but I don't know about anyone else. Also, yes baby Neal is a complete asshole in this but that's more to do with who he's been around rather than Mary Margaret and David's parenting because I don't think- Mary Margaret especially- would raise her child to be like this. Anyway, I hope you like it**

He places his feet on the floor, hands gripping the mattress as Regina stands beside him and Henry looks on from the table.

Weeks had passed since Henry first found him; a thick layer of snow now covers the ground outside as autumn turns into winter. They'd spent the week testing his leg, seeing if he could stand on it. He'd been able to, a little, but it had hurt just seconds from standing and Regina had pushed him back onto the bed, telling him not to move.

From then on, they tested his leg every morning and every night, and it slowly became more bearable.

He tries standing, grabbing onto Regina's hand and trying only to use it to steady himself, placing most of his weight onto his good leg. He braces himself for the pain that comes when he moves a little of his weight onto his bad leg, but finds himself surprised when it doesn't. Perhaps it's fully healed after all.

"How is it?" he hears Regina ask, voice laced with concern. "Does it still hurt?"

Robin shakes his head. "No, it's...it's fine. I just-" He won't be able to walk, hop perhaps, but not walk. Regina guesses as much.

"Henry," she calls and the boy _hmm_ s, now looking up from the fairy tale book he was given. "Run down to the basement and see if you can find a stick or something." Henry nods, pushing the book away and standing from the chair before making his way over to the basement door and running down towards the darkness.

Great, Robin thinks. His life now depends on a stick.

He sighs, letting go of Regina's hand and plopping back down onto the bed, feeling defeated. Regina smiles sadly, sitting down next to him as they listen to Henry potter around beneath them, the sound of a crash being heard as he's undoubtedly just knocked something over.

"It could be worse," Regina says after Henry shouts up a _Sorry! I'll pick it up!_ "You might not have been able to walk at all."

He smiles weakly at that. She has a point, he guesses, but still, he's used to doing things fast and alone, used to just getting on with it right there and then, now he's going to be slowed down by a dodgy leg and a stick.

Henry comes running back up the stairs holding a battered old walking stick in his hands. He kicks the basement door shut as he walks over to them.

"It's the only thing I could find," he says, handing it over to Robin. He takes it, gives it a once other and while it isn't the best, it'll do. So long as he doesn't get a splinter from it.

"I knocked over the old paint tins that Papa left and one of them spilt all over the floor. Sorry." Robin looks over to see the apologetic look on the boy's face, sees a hint of worry in there too and Robin frowns, glances over to Regina who only smiles and says,

"It's okay. It's just some paint." She uses her hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, mumbles something about him needing a haircut, before standing up and telling him that it's time to go to school.

Robin sits there, however, holding onto the walking stick he now hates, and wonders why it seems like knocking paint over is such a big deal. Regina might've smiled, might've told Henry it was nothing, but he saw the sadness in her eyes. _It's just old tins of paint._

There's a knock on the door and Robin's eyes dart to it. Ever since the Nazis first arrived and did their search, Robin's heart has began pounding at every knock on the door. They haven't been back, not since that first time, and there's no telling what time they could return- least when people expect it, most likely. So every knock on the door has him sending into a frenzy, a worried glance at Regina. Their leader wasn't buying it that night. Wasn't buying Regina's story. The look he had given Robin was too telling. He knew Robin wasn't German, could probably extend it to knowing Robin was a soldier maybe, he just needed more evidence to prove it.

When there's a second knock, Robin calms his heart rate down. The knock is too gentle, too quiet. Besides, the Nazis wouldn't knock again; if there was no answer the first time, they'd have bashed the door in. He keeps himself behind the curtain, however, when Regina walks over to answer the door. None of their neighbours know he's here and they'd all like to keep it that way.

"Is Henry there?" he hears a boy asks, maybe it's Rudy? "He said we'd walk to school together."

Robin's eyes move to Henry, who's over by the table collecting his school bag and picking up his football. He throws his bag over his shoulders and makes it way over to the door. Robin pushes the curtain out the way slightly, watching the events by the door. Just as Henry's about to leave, the ball is swiped out of his hands by Regina and Robin finds himself smiling at his little startled _Hey_!

"Remember what I said, Henry? About not taking your football out with you?"

"You said that was only for Hitler Youth!"

"Well, now I'm extending it to school, too."

Robin watches as Henry's shoulders slink, head bowing as he mumbles a _Come on_ , to Rudy and Regina's shutting the door. She throws the ball back into its corner before coming to tidy away the still open fairy table book.

"That was a bit mean, wasn't it?" Robin says as she watches her potter about.

"You wouldn't say that if you had to clean mud marks off his clothes every day."

Robin frowns then, mind thinking as ideas start forming. "I could," he says, leaning forward as Regina asks _Could what_? "Could clean the mud marks off his clothes if you wanted me to."

Regina scoffs at that as she sorts through the wet clothes and drops them into a basket. "Don't be ridiculous," she says, side eyeing him with a smirk. "You wouldn't know what to do."

Robin begs to differ. She's forgetting he's spent weeks lying in bed, with nothing else to do but watch her clean. He's learned a lot just by watching.

"Why don't you try to find a _real_ job?"

Then it's Robin's turn to scoff. "Are you forgetting the part where I'm not allowed to leave this house?" He's thought of getting a job a lot, as he's laid here in the early mornings when Regina and Henry are still asleep, or when Regina's out delivering washed clothes. He's wondered where he could work. Needs to find work. He'll go insane if he stays in this bed any longer. Well, at least now he can move around, even if it is with this stupid stick.

"Well, how good is your German?" she asks and Robin laughs.

"I know hello, good morning, and whatever curse words you mutter." he says and it earns him a smile; one, he finds, goes straight to his heart.

"Well, what if I was to teach you?"

Regina teach him German? It's a long shot. Would take some time. Time they really don't have. He isn't great with languages, his mind is more meant for numbers, but if he knows the basics, it shouldn't be too hard. Does she have to time, though?

"Can you fit it in?" he asks and Regina nods.

"Once Henry's in bed, we can spend an hour and I'll teach you."

He thinks it over. An hour a day should be long enough. Enough time for the words and stick in his head and, well, whatever they worked on through the night he can go over through the day. It'll give him something to do.

So he nods says, "Okay, then." And Regina gives him another smile before tending back to her laundry.

...:...:...

He's not paying attention, not really, is just doodling on his paper while his teacher stands at the front and goes on about how wonderful Germany is.

He should have brought his book, Henry thinks. He could be reading it right now, could find out if Hansel and Gretel did manage to sneak into the Gingerbread House.

He was half way through the book now; something that made him feel sad as he turned each page. He didn't want it to end, wanted to carry on reading. His favourite so far was probably _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_ , he couldn't figure out why, maybe he just liked the dwarves.

Once the bell for recess rings, Henry picks up his book and throws them into his bag, but he doesn't rush out like he used to, there's no point, no football.

Most of the boys depend on Henry to be the one to bring the ball in, another reason he was, once again, annoyed at Mama. He tries not to be, but he can't help it, why all these rules all of a sudden? Anyway, when he'd walked into the classroom earlier and the boys had seen him empty handed, Henry was met by a sea of groans and questions as to why he hadn't brought the ball in. Rudy had been the one to answer, told them that his mother had took it off him and told him he couldn't bring it to school anymore. It would only matter for today, though, because tomorrow, Andy Diller will probably bring his in.

He sits down on the bench, watching everyone run and mess around, hears some girls singing skipping songs and the boys in the older years hollering to each other. He slumps forward, leans his elbows on his legs, face falling into his hands and he watches on, really wishing he'd brought his book now.

"You lied to me."

Henry frowns, sits up and sees Neal Nolan standing beside him, an offended look on his face. Behind him stands to other boys, ones he's never seen before.

"You said your father are fighting in the war, on the front line. Well, I asked my dad and he said there was nobody called Robin fighting."

Henry's not particularly bothered that he's been caught out, is actually more surprised that Neal was curious enough to find out.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Henry shrugs, he doesn't really know, sounded good, he thinks.

"You don't have a father, do you?"

He wants to get up and walk away, yet there's something that keeps him rooted to the chair. He hates it when his lack of father enters conversations. When Papa left them, Glücklich Street had known by the next day, somehow, and as Mama walked him to school that day, every one stared at them, Henry could hear them whispering, saying things. He caught some words, mostly _Alleinerziehende Mutter_ ; that had been the most common word he heard. Single Mother.

"I'm not surprised," Neal carries on saying and Henry tries as hard as he can not to listen. Tries to turn his attention to something else, Rudy's cheer as the team he's chosen to support today scores a goal. "They say the _likes of you_ are all like that. Fatherless. Born in gutters from _whores_ who can't-"

The first punch lands in his face and Neal is on the ground before anyone can react. Henry loses it then, anger completely takes over him as he plummets his fist onto every part of Neal's body whilst his friends look on, shouting _Don't call my mother whore_ over and over until Neal's beaten black and blue, blood spurting from his nose and mouth and a crowd's began to gather around them. Henry's still punching (now the air) as a teacher drags him off Neal who's still laying on the floor and Henry's given three whacks against his back before being ushered towards the main door and to the headmaster's office.

It's there he sits, still brooding, still angry, with bloodied knuckles. He doesn't make eye contact with the teacher at the desk, just stares off into space, his mind reeling with Neal Nolan's words.

 _Mama isn't a whore._ As little as he may remember of his father, Henry knows they were married, knows he was born in a hospital, knows Papa loved Mama. _She isn't a whore..._

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

He doesn't see the point. Even if Henry told him the truth, he'd take Neal's side because of who Neal is, who is parents are. There's no point.

"My mother isn't a whore." Henry says instead, his voice weak and quiet. He wants to cry. Wants to go home and curl up and never see Neal's stupid face again.

"Is that what Neal said?"

Henry nods. Doesn't really know why, it won't make a difference after all, but he nods anyway.

"And you punched him in the face for it."

There's no question mark at the end, only disappointment of sorts and it makes Henry angry all over again.

"He called my mama a whore!"

"And that doesn't give you the right to punch him in the face for it, Mr Mills." The teacher's words are sharp, and Henry leans back in his seat, defeated. He was right. There was no point. He'd just take Neal's side.

"Whether you were acting out in defence of your mother, Henry, this can't go without punishment. You must suffer the consequences and learn to be disciplined." The door opens then and a woman walks in, handing the headmaster a letter before walking back out again and shutting the door. "This is your letter of suspension." the teacher says, placing the letter in front of Henry. "You're to give it to your mother so she knows why you won't be going to school tomorrow."

Henry reaches forward, grabbing the letter and stuffing it into his bag. He doesn't care if he's suspended, so long as he doesn't see Neal's face again.

As he leaves the room, he glances a look at Neal Nolan in the other room, face bruised as he holds an ice pack to it. Mrs Nolan sits beside him, an arm around the boy as another teacher speaks to her and she nods. As Henry exists the school, kicking various doors open, his minds screams for Neal to be punished just as Henry had. After all, he was the one who started it in the first place.

...:...:...

She's mad, Regina thinks as she cleans the countertops _again._ Mad to think she has the time to raise Henry, clean the house up, wash the stains off Henry's clothes every night, deliver clothing to her customers _and_ teach Robin German.

She doesn't really know why she suggested it. Wait, yes she does. She'd taken pity on Robin a few weeks ago. Saw his frustrated expressions at being stuck inside the house, not being able to leave the bed let alone the house. That's what had made her decide to test his leg out, give him something to focus on before he went insane.

She has thought of him getting a job, they would probably need it. The money she gets from her job and raising Henry are enough to exist but not really enough to _live_ on, especially with a third person in her house. With a third income, Regina wouldn't have to keep worrying about where Henry's next meal is coming from.

Yet, there was a problem with Robin getting a job; his accent. And his lack of German. But with the basics, he could get on, wouldn't have to speak much; employers don't value speakers, they value _workers_ , and you don't need your voice to work.

That is why she suggested it.

She finds her eyes occasionally wandering over to Robin, to where he sits at the table, flicking through Henry's fairy tale book. She doesn't know why; the things written in German, yet it does come with illustrations, perhaps he just likes looking at the pictures.

Right then, the door opens and Henry slumps in; head down, shoulders forward and...it's not home time is it?

Regina glances at the clock, it's only half 11, what's he doing home early?

She sees it then, when he takes his bag off and the light from the window catches his knuckles. And Regina's over there in a second, her heart in her throat as he takes his hand, asking; _Was ist passiert?_ He rips his hand out of her gasp, though, mutters a; _Nothing, I'm fine_ and tries to make his way upstairs. But Regina isn't having it. She stands in his way, asks once again, _What happened?_ before Henry sighs and says;

"I got in a fight with Neal Nolan."

Her _what_ is a mixture of everything; surprise, anger, confusion...Why is her sweet little boy getting into fights at school?

"He called you a whore so I punched him for it."

She's taken aback, mind swimming as she wonders what Mary Margaret Nolan's child would call her a whore and say it to Henry of all people-

"What did he call her?"

It's Robin's voice that cuts through her thoughts as both she and Henry look towards him. He's turned around in the chair now, jaw clenched and his hand in a fist and she really doesn't need this right now. She just wants to tend to Henry's knuckles and find out why he's been sent home early, but she thinks she already knows the answer to that.

"A whore," Henry says and Regina really wishes he'd stop using that word. "He said that's the reason I didn't have a papa, and I was born in a gutter, and that you were a whore." He looks to Regina then, tears in his eyes and brings him to her, brushes her fingers through his hair and looks over to Robin, thankful that he's somewhat relaxed and calmed himself down now.

"I'm sorry," Henry says, words muffled. "I just got so angry and wanted him to stop..."

She tells him gently to _shh_ , that it's over now and it doesn't matter. Yet, she still wonders what would make Neal Nolan call her these things, is in the mind to ask Mrs Nolan the next find she delivers her clothes.

Regina brings Henry over to the table, sits him down on the chair in front of Robin as he reaches over and puts a hand on Henry's shoulder. Regina grabs a clean cloth and some water, places the bowl and rag onto the table and brings the other chair forward, so she's sitting in front of Henry. She dabs as his cuts and he hisses in pain, but doesn't move his hand away, just bites his lip as Robin pushes the book towards him.

Regina won't shout at him for being suspended. He shouldn't have even been suspended. Can imagine Neal Nolan will walk into school tomorrow, be announced an hero or something stupid like that, while Henry sits at home, with nothing to do all day.

She sends him to bed earlier than usual, later on. Once they've all eaten and takes his book off him and begins to read the suspension letter, eyes jumping to words like _Caught fighting_ and _No bullying policy._ She shakes her head at that last one, if they had a no bullying policy, Henry wouldn't have been in a fight in the first place.

"How frustrating is it?" Robin asks, beginning to pick the bread that he grabbed from the side into pieces.

Regina sighs. "Just a typical school," she says, pushing the letter away and stretching, not missing the way Robin's eyes linger on her longer than necessary. "Taking it out on the less...fortunate child."

Robin smiles at that. "Doesn't want to anger the wealthier parents." he says and Regina rolls her eyes.

"Well, then they've never dealt with him before." She stands up then, picking up the candle that had sat in the middle of the table. "Ready for your lesson then?"

"Now?" Robin says, surprise on his face.

"Yes, now. I would like to go to sleep soon." She making her way over to the basement door then, pulling it open and even from here she can feel how cold it is. "On second thoughts," she says, shutting it. "We'll just stay here." She walks back over to the table then, placing the candle back in the centre and reaching over to grab the paper and pencil from the counter, putting it in front of Robin as they both sit back down.

"Right then," she says once they're seated and Robin's picked the pencil up. "Start with the words you know." And she watches as Robin scribbles words like _Hallo_ , _Danke_ and _Nein._ It stays like that for the rest of the hour, Robin writing down the words he knows and Regina feeding him new ones now and then, correcting a misspelled word along the way. And, as the night goes on, she realises that this may not be as tedious as she originally thought.


	6. Chapter Five

**My longest chapter and the longest thing I've ever wrote; 5,301 words which is absolutely nothing compared to others but anyway, I hope you enjoy this :)**

He manages one night down in the basement. One night.

After their lesson finished, Regina told him she was going to bed and that was his cue to get himself down in the basement.

He wasn't an idiot, he knew before their lesson began it was gonna be cold down there, Regina turning around and walking back to the table, saying their lesson was gonna take place in the kitchen confirmed that. Yet he was not prepared to the frigidness that hit him the moment he opened that door, to the cold that entangled itself within his bones as he slowly made his way the stairs. Regina was behind him, carrying the candle that Robin was sure that cold was going to extinguish.

He could see it on her face, the way she looked at him after she set his bedding down that she didn't want him to stay there, that if things were different, he'd upstairs in some guest bedroom or another. But things weren't different, this wasn't a house like Mrs Nolan's, this is a one bedroom house in Glücklich Street, there was nowhere else for him to sleep.

That was a lie actually. There was somewhere for him to sleep. There was enough room on the floor upstairs, there was a tatty old couch that would've made a suitable bed, even the spare bed in Henry's room. Yet they both knew him staying down here was safer, perhaps not safe for his health but safe away from any spying eyes for sudden house calls- according to Regina anyway because isn't the basement the first place the Nazis look? Isn't it suspicious that there is a bedding here?

He doesn't say anything though, just takes the candle from Regina and places it on the ground. The only thing that does come out of his mouth is a _Good night_ one that Regina returns with a smile before making her way (in the dark) through the basement and back up the stairs.

And the basements not small, Robin muses as he pulls his coat tighter around him, pulls back the now cold covers. It's the side of upstairs but there's not much down here. The paints that Henry knocked over a few days ago and some chests that are locked. Robin wonders if they belong to Henry's father; Regina not knowing what to do with them so she brought them down here, makes sense.

He snuggles down into his bedding but it's pointless, he can't get warm (there's a brief moment were he thinks how good is this temperature for his leg and reasons that it's probably not good at all) He tries closing his eyes but sleep will not come, his body can't relax, too busy fighting off the cold.

His mind wanders to soft beds. _Her_ soft bed. To a fire that keeps the warm pleasantly warm. To covers that are thick, to a pillow that is comfortable and completely covered in her smell. He wants her there. Wants to roll over and bring her into him, her body heat alone enough to do the job, to keep him warm. He wants to run his hand over bare skin- he wonders how it would feel. Soft, probably, and warm. Everything would be soft and warm. Let his other hand play with hair that he rarely sees down and-

He shuts his eyes, the cold is something just on the edges now, not bothering him too much and this is good he thinks, he might be able to get to sleep but only if he thinks of something else and not of the cold.

But he can't help but wonder if this is somehow wrong, but then there isn't anything wrong. He's not thinking anything impure, he's not thinking of _that._ No, just the two of them lying in her bed, keeping each other warm.

There's nothing wrong with that.

And there have been worse. Not thoughts, not exactly, but there have been times when she's got dressed, that _sheer_ curtain the only thing separating them and he's wanted to look, wanted to glance behind him but he'd told himself to just focus in front of him, to focus on Henry's book that was open nearby him, and it had worked. Sort of.

Then there had been those times when she'd washed herself just feet behind him. Drawing that curtain across and climbing into the tiny tub she kept near the wall. That had been harder. Harder to keep his mind from thinking of soap and water running down her skin and disappearing into places he has no right to think about.

So no, these thoughts he's having now are nothing compared to what he could be thinking.

So he carries on thinking of entangled legs, of her head against his chest just like that morning two months ago, only this time there wouldn't be a worry of Henry finding them.

He wakes the next morning cold; limbs stiff, and alone. And decides he isn't staying another night in the basement.

When he opens the basement door, the warmth hits him immediately, seeping through his bones much like the cold did last night, but this time, he has no complaints. The fire's flickering away and he's grateful for it after a night down there, wants to do nothing more than curl up and reclaim the sleep he'd missed last night.

It's early, Henry's not awake, but she is, pottering about as usual. She's dressed for the day, yet she's kept her hair down and his mind wanders to the thoughts last night, to twisting the strand around his finger while she...

 _Not appropriate. Not while she's here._

He coughs, pushing the thought away. Regina jumps a little, turning and masking her surprise with a smile and a, "Morning. Sleep well?"

She's cheerful today, more so than usual, yet her innocent question has Robin's mood turning sour slightly but he pushes it away, she meant it friendly. Still, he answers;

"Not exactly," he hobbles over to the couch, using the stick to help him along, and sits himself on the old thing. He guesses this would be the moment were he reaches over and grabs a newspaper or something like that, but they're all written in German here and there isn't one to begin with. A shame really, he could really do with an update on the world.

"It was a little...cold."

He sees her expression falter, a guilty look passing across her face. "I thought it might have been," she says, turning to take a bowl out of the cupboard. "I guess you don't want to sleep down there again?"

Robin smiles, shaking his head, then remembers that she can't see him. "No," he voices. "Not really."

Regina nods, but doesn't say anything, doesn't suggest anything so Robin leaves it, it will come up later. Instead he asks, "So what's got you in such a happy mood?"

She smiles again, beginning to mix the content in the bowl and Robin is taken back to another moment, another moment two months ago of Regina crying, telling him her fears (or one of her fears) and he being in a complete understanding of it all. He felt the same for Roland when rumours of wars and the possibility of change first spread its wings. It's funny how the situations change over time. How it can be the same actions but different context.

"It's Granny's 60th." she says and Robin frowns, a bemused look forming across his face.

"And this makes you happy because...?"

Regina shrugs. "I never really liked parties or anything but it was always nice for Henry." She stops mixing then, turns to face Robin, hands falling in front of her and lacing together as she says, "Which leads me to ask another thing; would it be confusing if I ground Henry but invite him to the party later?"

Robin thinks for a moment. He guesses it would be but Regina has been thrown in a difficult position on how to punish Henry for his fight yesterday. It was wrong, yes but had the Nolan brat not said anything in the first place, Henry wouldn't have flipped.

Hell, just thinking of the boy saying that word makes him want to flip. Robin isn't stupid, knows exactly how those bastards in the richer parts of Munich view those who live here and places like here. And when it comes to Regina and likes, he can imagine 'whore' would be tossed around a lot. It's the only explanation to why a ten year old would say it. Still though, it has him wanting to go down there and personally punch the sods himself.

God, when did he get so protective of Regina?

Then again, he did promise Henry, didn't he? Promised to protect her. It'll all be in the name of keeping promises.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," he says finally, deciding that, no there isn't. The boy understands what he did was wrong and that he shouldn't do it again, that it isn't the right solution (perhaps Robin should take that advice too) "Besides, there are more less chivalrous reasons to punch the shit out of someone."

She gives him one last smile before turning back around and focusing solely on their breakfast just as Henry's footfalls could be heard coming down the stairs. Robin moves is attention from Regina to the staircase, watch as Henry comes into view, socked feet hitting each step slowly. Seems as though he's still trying to wake up.

He walks over to the bookcase, taking his fairy tale book he was given from the shelf. Robin's eyes flicker to Regina, knows she put it there as another punishment (Henry was, after all, deeply attached to the book) yet if she notices that Henry's taken the book, she doesn't say anything, just focuses on her mixing and stirring and heating of the food.

Robin moves his eyes back to Henry who's now sitting at the table, legs crossed on the chair, book open, and rubbing his eyes to wake up.

Straightening the stick that Robin had left to lean against the arm of the couch, he pulls himself up, hobbling his way over to the table and takes the seat next to Henry.

"You know," he says and the boy looks up, hand about to turn the page. "I had a book of stories similar to these." Henry's eyes widen, a surprised, _You did!_ escaping and Robin nods. "Yeah. But there was one I always used to read over and over again."

"What was it?"

"It was called _Robin Hood_ ," Robin says and waits for the reaction he knows he's sure to get.

"Like you're name!"

And Robin laughs. Yes, that was the reaction he was waiting for. "Yes, like my name. Have you ever heard of it?" Henry shakes his head. "Well, it was about a boy- or man depending on what version you read- who went around, stealing from the rich to give to the poor."

Henry's eyes widen again. "But stealing is wrong."

"It is." Robin says, his eyes flicking to Regina for a brief moment. Her movements are slow now, she's listening, too. "But this Robin justified it. The rich didn't need these things, they probably didn't want these things, but the poor did need them. So whenever he could, he- and his band of men called the _Merry Men_ \- would sneak out and break into these rich people's houses, take their stuff, then in the morning, they'd hand it to the poor and the poor lived a little longer." Henry's eyes are glued to his, listening to every word.

Thinking of Neal Nolan before got Robin thinking, and seeing Henry take the book got him thinking even more. Thinking of the stories he used to read himself. Perhaps Henry could learn something off an English tale.

"However. There were people who thought this wasn't right, who thought Robin should be punished for his crimes and so they'd tried to catch him-"

"Did they?" Henry cuts in, voice full of curiosity and Robin's eye flick back to Regina again, finds her leaning against the counter and watching them, also listening to the tale.

"Robin was smarter," Robin says, looking back at Henry. "He knew his way around Nottingham better than anyone else, even the Sheriff, so he was able to escape."

"Was he ever caught?"

It's Regina who asks the question and both Robin and Henry look towards her.

"Nobody knows," says Robin. "There's so many versions, they're all different."

Regina nods at that, then turns back to the food, scooping it out of the pan and into three sets of smaller bowls. When the pan is empty and the bowls are full, she brings them over to Robin and Henry before taking her own seat.

"Do you have the book with you?" Henry asks a few minutes later.

 _No,_ Robin thinks. _It's with my son back in England._ He's not about to tell them that, though, so instead opts for, "I lost it a few years ago."

"Oh."

They finish their breakfast in silence yet Robin's eyes constantly glance up towards Regina and each time he finds her staring at him, frowning. His only guess is she's trying to figure out what made him tell Henry the story.

He doesn't really know himself. Of course he doesn't want the boy to choose to steal from Neal instead of beating the crap out of him, doesn't really want him to do that, either. He guesses he just wanted to share the story with him. Henry likes to read, it's clear, he's a smart boy, Robin can also remember liking to read, too (though now he prefers numbers) Maybe he just wanted to show Henry that they have something in common.

...:...:...

She wonders where he's going with the story, what point is he trying to make by telling it to Henry. Was it supposed to be some sort of analogy? A comparison to what's going on now? Or was it just something simple as a story? Regina doesn't know. She tries not to let it bother her though, Henry's a smart boy, knows the difference between reality and stories, he won't suddenly get the urge to go rob Neal Nolan's house...hopefully (if he tries to, Regina will kill Robin)

She focuses more on Robin's problem, on where he can sleep. She knew last night she couldn't put him in the basement, it was too cold, even standing at the top of the stairs, you could feel it, yet he'd gone down there with no fuss, and stayed there for the whole night.

He wouldn't do it again.

She darts her eyes around the room and there are plenty of spaces he could go; the floor, the couch, even the spare bed in Henry's room if he wanted to share with a ten year old. She'd thought about this during those days he spent healing; thought about all the places he could move to but her brain always went with the basement. It was safer ( _No it isn't, it's the first place the soldiers look_ ) Or at least it was assumed to be safer. Regina knew this wasn't true, though. She hadn't had much sleep herself last night, her eyes set on the front door, waiting for that knock that she knew, deep down, wouldn't come. It was early hours before she drifted off, but it wasn't much, had been a light sleep, the birds and cold waking her up.

No, he won't go down in the basement.

She could put him on the couch. It wasn't entirely uncommon for people to sleep there after all, but would be prefer a bed? Maybe it was better for him to go into Henry's room. But would he want to sleep with a ten year old? Would Henry want Robin in his space? So many questions, and she's got no answers for it.

She could leave it until later, she thinks. Go to Granny's 60th with Henry then deal with it later. All these questions and their lack of answers were starting to give her a headache...

"Can I go play with Rudy?"

Henry's question interrupts her thoughts, the first word forming _No_ , she had decided to ground him after all.

"Not today, Henry."

"Why?"

"Because of yesterday."

She sees him beginning to sulk, eyes downcast and staring at the empty bowl as he pouts, says something about it not being fair, _I was defending you_.

She takes his bowl, picking up the two others as well, and places them into the sink as she says, "I know. And I appreciate it," she still need to have that conversation with Mrs Nolan, she realises. "But I'm punishing you for the fight, not the reason. And the fact that you got suspended."

"Neal Nolan didn't get suspended. And he started it."

It annoys her (a lot) that the boy didn't get suspended. Chances are, he went home and was probably coddled by his mother. Regina likes Mary Margaret, at least more than all her other customers, but she doesn't seem to be one for disciplining children.

"I know he started it, Henry. And I know you think I'm the bad guy for punishing you for it while he gets off free, but that's what I'm supposed to do. You'll learn what's right and wrong, Neal won't."

Henry just huffs, not entirely swayed, but mumbles out a, "Neal's an idiot."

It earns a laugh from Robin, one he instantly muffles, and a sigh from Regina but she lets it slip, she couldn't agree more, if she had to be honest.

She walks back over to the table then, taking her seat again. "You know, Granny's having her 60th party later on. You can come to that."

Henry looks up and frowns at her, confusion covering his eyes. "So I'm allowed to go to that but not play outside?"

Regina sighs again, leaning back in the chair as she ignores his question and tries another tactic.

"Rudy will be there."

It gets her a smile, if nothing else, and she's happy with that. So she stands up, makes her way over to the bags of clothes she packed the night before and with a sly smile says, "And since you're not running away this time, you can help me delivering these."

It earns her a groan from Henry, one she can't help but smile at as he drags himself off the chair and heads upstairs to get dressed.

"He thinks his whole world's fallen apart." she hears Robin say. She keeps her eyes on the stairs, on where Henry's just disappeared off to. He'll learn one day, learn that violence isn't the answer. Learn it sooner if this war doesn't go the way everyone hopes. _That's if he lives that long._

She pushes that thought away, always pushes those thoughts away. She has Henry. And he's well and alive, happy and safe- if not moody right now, but at least he's here and that's all that matters. _That's all that matters._

...:...:...

He's glad he was allowed to come. His fight with Neal and the anger at the whole situation has pretty much left his mind as he plays cards in the corner of the room Granny rented out for the night. Andy Diller's winning, while Sid Müller is in the process of almost having to give up his bike if he wants to stay in the game, something he isn't happy about. Rudy and Henry are somewhere in the middle, possibly tying .

Rudy had given him a load of work from school, suspension doesn't mean not having to do schoolwork it seems, but that sits on a table somewhere, forgotten.

They've been here for some time, everyone from Glücklich Street had been invited, and everyone had came. Most had gone home now, taking all the babies with them, even Granny had disappeared. There were only a few left; the four of them out of the twenty plus kids that had originally been there. All the parents had gone, too (apart from the four parents of the boys left) Mr Fredrickson's asleep in the other corner while Leroy shouts something inaudible from the other side. A few others sit around talking while music plays in the background. He hears Mama laugh- no, _giggle_ \- he hears Mama giggle. He turns, sees Rudy's papa twirling her around and she looks happy, happier than she's ever been. And Henry doesn't like it.

He likes his Mother being happy, would always want her to be happy, he just doesn't like the person who's making her happy. Not anymore.

When Henry's papa left, Mr Günther was always around, every day knocking on that door asking Mama if she was okay, if she needed anything and Henry would have jumped at the opportunity for him to be in their lives permanently, to be Rudy's brother. But there were times when Rudy would come into school sporting some kind of bruise; a black eye, a swollen lip, bruised arms. He's seen how aggressive Rudy's father could be; shouting at somebody on the street, shouting at Rudy, dragging him inside. Once Henry had seen those things, he began feeling like he had to tiptoe around the man, careful not to do anything to annoy him or set his anger off. It was fine those days that he stayed at Rudy's house, it was simple; play outside, eat some food, go to bed. That was easy, but he found he couldn't actually live with the man.

He could live with a man like Robin, though. Robin told him the story of _Robin Hood_ , and Henry found himself not opposed to the idea of stealing from Neal and giving to those of Glücklich Street but one look from Mama as they delivered the clothes told him to not act on that thought. Still, Henry liked Robin, a lot. He could live with someone like Robin. Could live _with_ Robin, but he knows that isn't allowed, that one day Robin will walk out of their lives just like Papa did. Henry didn't like that, either.

It's the punch to his arm that brings him that.

"Ow!" he cries, hand instantly clutching the punched arm as he looks at Sid who has an annoyed look on his face.

"It's your go, Mills. Perhaps you should listen the first time. Stupid kid..."

Sid is older than him, six years for so (Andy also being the same age) They weren't the best friends, Sid did spend three years bullying Henry when Sid first moved to Glücklich Street, but over time (and once Andy knocked a majority of his teeth out for it) Sid became something of a frenemy to them, but they couldn't fully trust him, would never fully trust him.

Henry shoots him a look but the boy isn't scared. He knows he doesn't have long, most of his time being taken up by 'day dreaming' so he throws any card down, not really putting much thought into it.

And it turns out to be the wrong one.

Dammit.

"Nice try, Mills." Sid says, a grin across his face as he leans back against the chair, arm slung across the back of Rudy's. "What you gonna give up?"

Henry thinks. He hasn't nothing of value. His football perhaps. His book...no chance. A few old baby toys- Sid isn't gonna want those. He has nothing. And Sid knows it.

"I know," the boy says and Henry waits for whatever humiliating act he will have to perform (he made Rudy eat worms the last time he lost to Sid) "Why don't you be my personal _assistant_." Okay, could be worse. Sid leans forward, eyes set on Henry. "Everything I want, you get. Everything I ask you to do, you do."

Henry's got nothing, nothing he can give. This is it. He has to agree. Sid won't accept nothing.

"Fine." Henry says with a sigh, he's gonna regret this.

Sid laughs, leaning back in his chair, says, _This is gonna be great_.

"Just don't make him do anything stupid, yeah." Andy tells him and it's a warning. Well at least someone's got his back in this.

"Don't worry. It'll be tame stuff."

Yet the glint Henry can see in Sid Müller's eyes says otherwise. He's definitely gonna regret this.

...:..:...

He waits up for them. For her. Lies down on the couch that's sure to be his bed for the night and stares up at the ceiling, waiting for her to come home.

There hadn't been a lesson tonight. They would be having one now, if she was here, but she isn't, she's off (hopefully) having a good time, not worrying about anything, not worrying about Henry. He's slightly envious. Robin would do anything to be outside, to be anywhere instead of inside these four walls. The furthest he goes to outside is the backyard when he needs to use the toilet, but then he's back inside. Day in, out day. God, he really needs a job.

But then that's why Regina's teaching him German and he's getting better, he now fully knows the basics. He'd read over some of his notes tonight; reading them, memorising them, remembering their English translation, remembering how to spell the words. He'd done good, got most of them right, the hard part would be finding a job.

His leg in an instant disadvantage. People will look at the stick, look at the way his leg is bent, see his limp and tell him to fuck off. He worked in a bar in England, before he went off to war; hours spent in a smoky, barely lit room, pouring drinks, cleaning up. He could do that again, he thinks. Would do that again. There's got to be something close to a bar or pub around here somewhere.

His body jumps at the sound of knocking and he freezers once more. It's hard, loud, yet the knocks come one after another, not stopping. It's not the Nazis, it's not the Nazis...

He swings his legs onto the floor, the knocking still persistent, as he grabs his stick and limps his way over to the door.

Regina stands there, face flush from the cold air, and hair in a bit of a disarray (she'd chosen to keep it down for the night, something that wasn't strictly allowed, but she'd done it anyway) She pushes him out of the way and Robin frowns when he notices that there's no Henry, but he closes the door anyway as Regina falls into his place on the couch.

He wonders if she's drunk. She doesn't look it, looks more sleepy if anything else, but he knows she's drank something, could smell it on her as she walked past him.

A giggle sounds from Regina as he hobbles his way back over to the couch and Robin frowns, stopping just beside it.

"I'm sorry," she says, kicking off her shoes and pulling her feet up onto the couch, curling into a ball. "It's just funny watching you try to walk."

He bites his lip and tries not feel hurt by her comment. She doesn't mean it, not really. And besides, when he goes out into the real world, he's probably going to face a lot worse, it's really nothing.

He sits himself down, leans against the back of the couch, closing his eyes. God, he should really go to sleep.

"Where Henry?" he asks instead, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling again.

He turns his head to look at her when she speaks. "Sleeping at Rudy's." She smoothes the fabric of her dress over her knee and adds casually, "I was also invited to stay over..."

He stamps on the jealousy that rises. _She's not mine to be jealous over._

"And you said no?" _Clearly, Robin. She's here with you._

"Something like that."

Robin nods and they both grow silent, Robin's eyes wandering to the clock reads closer to 2am; he should really go to sleep now she's back.

He's just about to tell her so when her laugh gets in first and he frowns as she asks, "What are we doing?"

He stares at her. As far as he was concerned, they weren't doing anything. Just sitting here.

"Sitting on a couch?"

She doesn't respond, just smiles, tucking her legs beneath her as she moves over, lying her head against his shoulder. Robin stays as he is, awkward and unsure of what to do.

" _Ich liebe dich_ ," she says, quietly, her eyes beginning to close as she settles more comfortably beside him. "But you aren't half _blöd_ at times."

He smiles at that, not really knowing what 'blöd' was but, knowing Regina, it was probably some insult. Still, he finds himself replaying the words 'ich liebe dich' over and over again as her breathing evens out and she becomes heavy against him and wonders what it means, yet he already knows what it means.

 _Ich liebe dich._

It means nothing.


	7. Chapter Six

His eyes light up as he watches the puppies sleep. Six of them, all snuggled up against each other and their mother.

Rudy had told him last night that they didn't have a enough money or space to keep them and that they were hoping to sell some of them in a few weeks, when they old enough to be out on their own. Henry had jumped at the opportunity, told him that he'd take one and they'd immediately went downstairs to talk to Mr Günther and now it was official.

Well, it wasn't official yet, actually. Henry still had to talk to Mama but she'd have no reason to say no. She told him she had a dog when she was younger but it ran away. If that was Henry, he wouldn't say no at the chance to have another.

"But I want your mother's approval first." Rudy's dad says just as Henry goes to open the door to return home. "Don't come back next week saying she's said yes when really she's said no." Henry nods, promises that he will ask her first before he's opening the door and running across the street to bang on his own door.

...:...:..

She wants to lie down. Wants to go back to bed and snuggle into her covers, sleep with hangover away. But she can't. She can't because she has a house to keep clean, a son to look after, a...person to keep an eye on, and clothes to deliver.

She won't be going back to bed until later on tonight.

Robin had woke her up. Nudged and called her name until she'd stirred awake, sniff and face mushed against his side. She'd jumped away the moment she realised, something she instantly regretted when the room spun and her head began pounding.

"That's what I was avoiding." Robin had said when she'd leaned her head against the cushions of the couch and closed her eyes, calming the wave of nausea. She couldn't lounge about all day, though, no matter how much she wanted to. There were things to do, people to feed, a child to look after. The world didn't stop just because she'd drank too much the night before.

She'd enjoyed it, though, broke her drinking limit she'd put on herself hours before but at the time it was worth it. It felt nice knowing that Henry was safe, that she could just let loose, have a few laughs with people she'd spent ten years with. It hadn't been that way since before Henry was born, the first time Daniel properly took her out on that rare time Regina was able to escape from her mother. It was the year the war ended, even though Germany had lost, there were still those that were just thankful that the war was over, that they could relive- or try to relive- their lives in piece (how naive they all were, Regina thinks) and they'd come together, in Daniel's little town, to celebrate. She can still remember that night, how happy and free she'd been, swirling around and laughing, just generally having fun and not feeling guilty for it. How she could dance and drink as much as she wanted. By the time it had finished- by the time they decided to leave- it had been too late to go back to her house so Daniel had taken her to his. She remembers how giggly she'd been when he'd suggested it, like a stupid little kid she got excited at the thought of doing something inappropriate.

Henry was conceived that night. A beautiful mistake, she'd called it, when a goodnight's kiss had got a little too heated and they'd both got carried away. She'd regretted it the next day, and for a couple more days after that. Tried to pretend she was still pure and innocent to her mother but once Regina realised she was pregnant, she knew she couldn't stay there.

She'd stopped regretting it, stopped feeling guilty about it, it was what normal people did. And once Henry was born, he wasn't a beautiful mistake anymore, he was just beautiful. A beautiful surprise.

She jerks when said beautiful surprise barges through the door sending it whacking against wall (the noise not doing much for her headache) as he cries, "Mama! Mama! Can we have a puppy, pleeeeeaseeee?"

It takes her a moment to let his words sink in, realise what he's asking. In that time, he's looking up at her with big brown eyes, but no, she isn't that weak, isn't easily swayed.

"And where is this puppy coming from?"

"Rudy's," he answers. "His dog just had six puppies but they've got no way to keep them so I said I'd ask you if we could have one of them."

This isn't the first time Henry's asked for a dog. On that rare time they went into the city once, they'd walked past a dog shelter and Henry had ran over to the window, face pressed against the glass, and stared. She'd seen the longing in his eyes when he turned to her, saw the pleading but dogs from the city were too expensive and the dogs that were left were too large for their tiny house, so she'd told him _Another time, perhaps_ and Henry dragged his feet back home, head hanging, and a pout on his face.

She considers it this time, however. Could imagine Albert selling the puppies cheap, cheaper for Regina if she asked and, well, it could be an early Christmas present.

"We'll see." is all the answer she gives him and it seems good enough for Henry for he's smiling, exclaiming a _Danke_ before willingly running upstairs and getting changed for Hitler Youth.

Really, if a dog had been all it took to get him to cooperate and not complain about going to Hitler Youth, she'd had promised him one months ago.

...:..:..

" _Sprechen Sie Englisch_."

Regina smiles. " _Sehr gut!_ " she praises and Robin smiles back, feeling pretty proud of himself. "And that one?" she adds, pointing to the sentence below the one he's just uttered.

He stares at it. It's somewhere in this mind. Simple, one of the first he learnt. The sentence on the paper in his English, it's off putting but Regina told him at the start that he needed to know the German sentence and it's translation and vice versa otherwise it was pointless. He couldn't make any mistake with this, people had to believe he was German, and Robin couldn't agree more.

" _Hast du irgendwelche arbeit_?" he tries and by the second smile Regina gives off, he can tell he's right.

But Robin frowns, finds himself asking the question that's been plaguing him for some time now. "What happens if they don't speak English?"

"You find somebody who does."

It's a risky move but it'll be beneficial. It'll be safer for him to talk in English, less risk botching up his German when he comes to a word or sentence he doesn't understand. Is asked questions he can't answer because of language barrier. His accent is an issue, a big issue, a deaf person would instantly know he was English if they heard him speak. They need to do something about.

Regina leans forward, her lip worming between her teeth and while it isn't something he hasn't seen her do before, for a moment he's distracted by it, wonders what it be like to-...He coughs, pushes himself away from that thought and shifts in his seat, tells himself to get his mind out of the gutter.

Of course, it's not the first time he's mind has wandered down that lane. A day doesn't pass where she won't accidentally brush against him, or he won't catch a whiff of her hair on the mornings where she leaves it down. He'd resisted the urge to smell it last night. When she'd fallen asleep against his shoulder (even those times he's came to secretly enjoy) her hair so close to him, resisted turning his head and just pressing his nose into her hair.

"I wasn't sure to tell you this," she says, bringing him out of his thoughts. "Because of how long the walk is but, not far from here, there's some docks and I heard that they take people on on the side..." she looks around before bringing her gaze back to him. "People who don't strictly belong here. Maybe you coud try there?"

He thinks about it, nods slowly. Perhaps. If they have all manner of people, they might not question his accent, might not turn him in if he's lucky.

"How long is the walk?" he asks.

Regina gives him a pained look. "A hour." she says, attentively.

An hour. Right...Robin couldn't imagine that would be good for his leg.

"That's, er..." he begins but Regina knows what he's about to say. "That's quite a walk, then."

She nods. "But it's worth a try right?"

"Yeah." he assures. It's worth a try. And he never knows, the fresh air could be good for him.

Their conversation is interrupted by Henry opening the door. He turns and spies the boy holding a piece of paper or so in his eyes, a glum expression on his face as he uses the back to shut the door.

"What's wrong, Henry?" he hears Regina ask.

The boy walks over to the table, plants the piece of paper on the surface and Robin's eyes scan it, but it's useless, it's all in German. German he can't understand yet.

"We're going on a three day hike." Henry says, glum as ever as he lands into one of the empty chairs nearby him and crosses his arms.

Regina picks the paper up and reads it. Robin moves his eyes away from her, focuses on Henry with an intent to cheer him up. He clearly isn't happy about this whole arrangement.

"I went on plenty of hikes when I was your age." he says, nudging the boy's arm lightly.

Henry sighs. "Yeah, but you probably got a choice."

Henry's not wrong. He did get a choice but he even if he didn't he wouldn't complain. He enjoyed the hikes he got picked to go on- anything to get away from his father after all.

"Come on," Robin says. "It can't be that bad."

"It's compulsory," Regina says, picking up the pencil she'd used to write down the phases. "So no matter how much complaining you do isn't going to change the fact that you're going." She signs the letter. Pretty pointless in Robin's eyes if the boy doesn't have a choice but then, he can't read the words, doesn't actually know if she's signing to say he can go or signing something else, which makes him question what the hell she is signing then, but he lets it go.

Henry groans, reaches over and swipes the letter off the table, before getting up from his seat and dragging himself up the stairs to his room to sulk some more.

"Is there a reason he doesn't want to go?" Robin asks, turning his gaze back to Regina who has moved over to the cooker.

"He doesn't understand why he has to." Robin nods, but before he can get his own words in, Regina's adding, "It's about creating the perfect German child, and brainwashing them with Nazi beliefs."

She doesn't add anymore, doesn't need to. Robin remembers those earlier days when all her fears of Henry slowly beginning to believe what they tell him all came gushing out.

The first time he'd heard about Hitler Youth back in England, he'd been against it, could never imagine putting Roland into one of those. Of course, if Germany won, he might not have had a choice in the matter, but hearing it that night from her, an actual German mother who feared for her son and how he'd view the people around them, the people he grew up with, even her if it went that far, it made it feel real, so much more real, like this horror was really happening. You could fight in a hundred wars but nothing would never be more painful than seeing a mother cry for their child.

"Henry's too smart for that," he says, hoping to offer the comfort he was unable to the last time. "He'll never see it as they see it."

Regina gives him a smile, whispers a _Danke._ He gives back his own little smile, finishing with a _Bitte schön_ and smiles that little bit more when she says, _Not bad._


	8. Chapter Seven

**Kinda hate myself for this with no reason as to why but meh. Here you go :)**

She isn't surprised when she opens the door to find Rudy standing there, clad in his uniform, a smile plastered onto his face, and no football to be found.

"Is Henry there?"

Regina moves out of the way, opening the door a little wider and the boy frowns, not walking into the house.

"See if you can get him to go." Regina says and the frown leaves Rudy's face as he _Ah_ 's and runs inside up to Henry's room.

Regina closes the door behind her and surveys and room. It's strange without Robin here. Months now he'd occupied her house, ate with her and Henry, slept on her couch. There was always an essence of worry that they'd be found out, it's been four months since they saved him and in that time, only one Nazi visit. They always froze whenever there was a knock on the door, even Henry, too now, but most of the time it was just Rudy asking for Henry.

Now he was out there taking the hour (possibly longer for him) walk to the docks in an effort to see if there was any work he could do. Regina had offered to go with him, they could keep up the lie that he was mute then, she could do all the talking, but he'd told her to stay here with Henry, otherwise he'd never go on the hike.

Still, when she's not fussing over Henry, telling him for the millionth time that he's going, she's worrying about Robin. What if he doesn't come back? What if he's caught half way there? He wouldn't be able to get himself out of this one. They'd ask what an English was doing in Munich, a German city. They'd know he was a soldier, know why he was sent here, and they'd probably kill him for it.

Would he tell them about her, though? Tell him that he's been staying here? They'd ask where he'd been staying for the four months. Would he say 108 Glücklich Street, maybe even personally take them to her house? She'd be killed, her crime is just as severe was harbouring a Jew. What about Henry? Would they kill him, too?

Probably.

Despite it all, though, Regina doesn't think Robin would tell them.

"He's coming downstairs now."

Regina startles slightly but looks at the child with blonde hair and blue eyes (lucky, she thinks) and asks, "What did you do?"

"Told him I'd carry his hiking gear for a bit."

He jumps off the final step, coming to sit down in one of the chairs as the sound of Henry's door shutting shakes the house and he slumps his way down the stairs, dressed, thank god, but not looking impressed.

"It's only three days, Henry." Regina says, placing a bowl in front of him when he sits on a chair next to Rudy.

Henry shrugs, and picks up his spoon before asking a little brighter, "Hey. Where's Robin?"

Regina stops dead, conscious of the company they have. Rudy's a child, a blabber mouth, quick to tell anyone with a ear anything. He can't be trusted no matter how much of a good friend he is to Henry.

Regina's blood runs cold when she hears the boy innocently ask, "Who's Robin?" and she hopes to God what he didn't hear Henry's _Oops._

It looks strange. Either of them are saying anything. One of them has to say something.

"We-"

"He's a friend." Regina cuts in. She has to say it, Henry trusts Rudy too much, will no doubt tell him who Robin is. Regina's blood runs colder at the thought, she needs to tell him- warn him- not to, before he leaves this house.

"Oh." Rudy says, dismissing it.

Regina makes eye contact with Henry, a silent warning to not, under any circumstances, tell Rudy the truth. Henry nods as subtly as he can. She'll kick herself later for allowing Rudy into her house.

.:.:.:.:.:.

Despite the effort, he's enjoyed this walk. Though have enjoyed it more if he could move a little faster but he's getting better, faster. His leg no longer hurts or aches unless he puts too much weight on it but that's why Regina gave him the stick, wasn't it?

But he's enjoyed this walk for one reason in particular; the fresh air. As grateful and thankful he is for Regina and Henry and all they've done for him, he's been stuck in that tiny house for four months, only going as far as the toilet in the back yard and you don't get much fresh air out there, anyway, Glücklich Street not one for clean air, so he hopes this walk has done him some good, even if it has taken him a little over an hour to get there and will take him the same amount of time to get back.

It's when he gets to the top of a smaller hill that relief spreads through him. The docks are there, as Regina told him, small boats docked as people run around shouting commands that he doesn't understand. He hopes there's at least one person there who's English.

Regina had offered to accompany him along, something Robin smiles at when he thinks about it, and while it would have helped if she was there, someone to speak and translate for him, he'd told her _No_ , Henry would only use it as an excuse not to go hiking after all and he hates to think what would have happened had Henry not went. What would have happened to both of them.

He'd thought of that on the way down. Thought of many things. One being what would happen if he was caught. They'd ask question, hell these might even ask questions if they get a glimpse of his accent shining through which is likely. Would they give him up? Alert someone that he's English? Regina said they take people on the side, does that mean other English soldiers like him? He guesses he's about to find out.

He's like a lost puppy when he gets there, standing on the stones and pebbles. Unsure what to do. He should approach someone. Speak to someone. Ask if there's any work. Yes, that's what he'll do.

So he searches for some German, scraps of sentences pulled together from lessons with Regina. He hopes he can do her proud. _Wants_ to do her proud. And takes the leapt.

Or limped walk in his case.

"Hallo?" he asks, voice unsure, when he approaches someone tying a rope to pole.

The man looks up, eyes scanning up and down Robin, landing on his leg and walking stick and staying there for a bit before pulling back up to meet Robin's eyes (Robin just hopes none of it puts the man off hiring him) and asks, " _Was willst du?_ "

He scans for the question, sentences forming but not making sense. He can't mess up now, the person is somewhat interested in him, and he's running out of time.

" _Arbeit?_ "

The man smiles, showing some cracked and missing teeth and Robin thinks he's done enough. Hopes he's done enough. Hopes the man directs him to someone English.

He points and Robin follows. " _Versuche es dort_." The direction he points in shows another man pulling a rope, trying to hoist a sail. Robin turns back, thinks he understands (the man's telling him to go over there) and nods, says, _Danke_ , and leaves in the direction the man pointed.

Well, that could've been worse.

Relief spreads through him when he approaches the other man, catches sight of his apparent missing hand and send a thank you to anyone up there who wanted to be on his side today.

Robin coughs and the man looks, also takes in Robin's appearance and smiles. Before Robin can ask for work, he jumps in first.

"Looking for work?"

Robin's stunned for a second, surprised that he's actually English.

"You're English?" he says, all German forgotten.

"So are you." the man counters and Robin grins. Yes, he's very thankful for whoever's on his side today. "And also crippled." he adds, nodding to his leg. "You best grab this rope and help me hoist this sail, though you might want to ditch the walking stick."

Robin nods, drops the stick to where it hits the ground with a _thud_ , as he hobbles, somewhat difficultly to the other side and grabs hold of the rope.

"Ready?" the man asks and Robin nods, together they pull on the rope and the sail lifts itself up.

Once it's up, they let go.

"Name?" the man asks.

"Robin."

The man holds out his good hand. "Killian." Robin takes it and they shake as Killian says, "Good to have another English on board. Better than even German fuckers."

Robin laughs slightly, asks, "Do any of them speak English?"

"No." Killian says. "But they won't rat us out." They let go of each other's hands. "You work all day every day," he carries on, rubbing sweat off his forehead and wiping it on his pants. "Wages vary depending on how much work you do but it's enough to get by on."

That's fine by Robin. "I'm just glad to be outside." he says.

Killian laughs, tells him, "You won't after next week, you'll be begging for more change."

It's left at that. Killian shows him around, the different jobs to do, tells him the docks are important to look after and if anyone comes snooping around, you let the Germans do the talking. Robin nods, understands completely, and makes a comment along the lines of, _It's something like that at home_ which earns him another laugh from Killian.

It's only later, when the man's left his to his own devices and he's helping a man named Al move some barrels that he's just referred to Regina's house as home. He muses to himself that that's what it is now, has been that way for four months. Yet he wonders what his own home looks like, that space above the bar he owned, is it still there? Have the German's bombed it yet? And Roland...Tucked away in the countryside. Would he ever see his boy again?

For now, he guesses not.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

They were split up into groups the moment they got there, asked a find a good place to set up camp and then start looking for food and other things to survive.

Henry had to admit, he did begin to enjoy it, once they broke away from the main camp. He'd been placed in a good with Rudy and Russell which he was happy about, until Sid got sent there way and his world had crashed.

Henry had managed to avoid Sid since Granny's party. His assistant job hadn't began get- probably because the boy could never find Henry and was too lazy to properly look- but now, though, they were in the same group, and it was about to begin if that look on Sid's face was anything to go by.

"Better start your debt, Mills." Sid says, giving Henry a little push when the soldiers weren't looking. "Now Diller isn't around to watch out for you." He laughs as he walks away, heading somewhere after Russell.

"Just ignore him," Rudy tells him, kicking a rock out of the way. His uniform was already a mess, even Henry had managed to keep his clean. "He's just a bully."

Henry nods, not wanting to talk about it, as he wonders what exactly Sid has in store for him.

"So who really is Robin?" Rudy asks a while later when they're preparing the fire for the night.

"Who?" Henry asks, knowing full well who Rudy was talking about.

"Robin. The person who mentioned before."

Henry doesn't say anything. Mama had grabbed him before he left, told him that he can't tell Rudy who Robin is and Henry had nodded, told her he wouldn't and he didn't expect Rudy to bring it back up. Hoped Rudy wouldn't bring it back up.

"He's nobody." Henry says, picking up a stick and drawing a picture in the dirt. "One of Mama's friends."

Rudy scoffs, "No he isn't. You would've mentioned him before." He abandons the fire making and leans forward. "You can trust me. Why won't you stay who he is?"

 _Because Mama will get in trouble._

Rudy's right, though. Henry can trust him. He's his best friend. He wouldn't tell anyone.

So Henry huffs, looks around to make sure they're alone (which they are) and leans forward, his face just a little bit away from Rudy's as he whispers, "He's a soldier from England."

Rudy's blue eyes widen. "Really?" he asks, voice in awe.

Henry nods. "We rescued him months ago and Mama looked after him."

"That's dangerous. What if you're found out?"

"We nearly where. Mama said they were married and that Robin was a mute, which is why he never spoke."

"That's brave." Rudy says, speaking a little louder and pulling away.

Henry nods again, pride swelling through him. "My mama is brave."

"What happens if you're caught?"

He shrugs, unsure. Mama said something bad would happen to them both but she didn't say anything else.

"They'll hurt your mama." Rudy says, voice grave. "They hurt everyone."

It's true, Henry thinking as he remembers Paige and her family being dragged out of their house. He doesn't like to think of that happening to Mama and he bites his lip, tries to bat away the pictures in his head.

He turns on the log to his bag on the floor, opening it up and pulling out his storybook.

"What's that?" Rudy asks, tending back to the fire.

"A storybook." Henry says, opening the pages, hoping the pictures in his book will help replace the horrible ones of his mama. "Neal's mama gave it to me."

"Why?"

He shrugs again. "I don't know. It's cool, though." He pushes the book towards Rudy. "It's got every fairy tale in there. My favourite's _Robin Hood_ but that's not in the book.

"How come?" Rudy asks, flicking through it.

"It's an English story."

"What have the baby's got there?!"

Henry jumps as Sid swipes the book out of Rudy's hand and leaps over the fire.

"Give it back!" Henry shouts, standing up and trying to grab the book from Sid's hands. He's too strong, though, pushing Henry back and laughing.

"Silly little kid tales." He laughs again and Henry scowls at him. "These are for babies." He dangles the book over the flames, eyes insane as Henry's own eyes widen. He tries to grab the book but Sid extends his other hand, places it on Henry's forehead and pushes as Henry tries to get at him, his efforts pointless.

"I know, I know." Sid says, taking the book from above the fire and Henry's heart rate decreases a bit in speed. Sid takes his hand away from Henry's forehead and Henry stumbles a little bit. "Let's make a deal," and Henry prepares for whatever Sid wants to throw at him. "I get to keep this book and I won't tell anyone your little secret."

Henry frowns. "What secret?"

The look across Sid's face is terrifying. "The soldier hiding in your house."

He laughs as Henry lunges at him. "You heard that?!" he cries. He knew he shouldn't have told Rudy. Mama's gonna kill him. If the soldiers don't get to her first.

"Do we have a deal?"

Henry nods. Having to choose between his mother or a fictional book, he'll choose his mama, will always choose his mama.

"Good." Sid says. "Then you won't mind me doing this." He throws the book into the fire and Henry stares at it, watching the pages curl inwards as the flames consume it, watches the picture of Rapunzel's tower grow smaller and smaller.

Sid laughs, gives Henry a little push but with enough force that he falls onto the ground and runs off.

Rudy land next to him, giving out his hand and helping him up. "Are you okay?" he asks and Henry nods, though he isn't. He continues to stare at the fire, to where his book is there no longer, consumed by the flames.

"Maybe Neal's mama can give you a new one?" Rudy says, hopeful.

"Maybe."

Henry looks off into the direction Sid ran off to and hopes that he keeps his promise and doesn't tell anyone what he's heard.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He pleased with himself when he makes it home. He feels good. Happy. Like he's done something productive, and has the evidence to show for it; A bottle of Whiskey.

It cost a bit and maybe Regina won't be too impressed with him spending his wages on alcohol but he earned it, and it is for the two of them. If she even likes Whiskey. Saying that, he doesn't even know what he likes.

He knocks on the door and it only just occurs to him that she might not be in, that she might be doing her washing rounds or something. He could sit on the step and wait for her; nobody's out, nobody will ask questions. He's actually thankful again that he managed to make it there and back without any questions, that he was able to find another English that he got along well with.

On their break, they'd swapped stories. Killian told him that Milah back in Ireland, and he'd told about Marian and Roland, of war and how he ended up here. It was probably a risky move, telling someone who he was, he kept out the parts about Regina and Henry and where he was staying and Killian didn't ask. Something told Robin that perhaps the other man had been in a similar position. He told him how he'd lost his hand during a fight and Robin had asked how brutal was the fight. _You have no idea_ , and that had been left there it was and they were back to work again.

Luckily, Robin doesn't need to sit hours on a step because the door opens, Regina's home, and he holds up the bottle of Whiskey.

"You found a job then?" she asks and he nods and walks inside. _Home_.

"How has everything been?" he asks and he sits himself down on the couch, puts his leg up on the table. It's sore, now, pain shooting through it from standing on it for too long. He hopes with use it subsides soon.

"Quiet." Regina says, sitting down beside him. He can see she's missing Henry already.

"He'll be back in three days." he reminds her but she's shaking her head.

"It isn't that."

Oh? What is it then, he wonders.

"Henry asked where you were before." Regina says, her fingers lacing together in that fidgety way she does when she's nervous about something and Robin frowns. "In front of Rudy."

Robin sighs, shutting his eyes for a second and reopening them. "And the boy asked who I was." Robin says, knowing full well that's what happened.

Regina nods.

"Do you trust the boy?"

"Not in the slightest." Regina scoffs and he can see why she's worried now. "One word of anything to him and he'll tell anyone."

Robin nods, remembers having a friend that was similar to that. "But you trust Henry?"

"Of course." Regina says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Robin stretches over, pulls the top off the bottle. "Then you need to stop worrying and have a drink." He takes a swig himself before handing it out to her.

"From the bottle?" she asks incredulously, eyes flicking from the bottle to him.

"Regina." he says, "You live in the shittiest smelling street in the world," he hands the bottle further out to her. "Yes, from the bottle."

She takes it, eyes it cautiously and Robin gives her a little nudge and she takes a sip of it before handing it back to him.

"What?" she asks.

"You can do better than that."

She smiles, head downcast and pushes her hair behind her ear before saying, "I prefer cider."

He takes another gulp. "I'll remember that for next time."

They stay that way, pushing the bottle between them for some time, falling silent. He's got no reason to worry about Henry or Rudy or anyone finding out about him. He's got everything he needs; a house, alcohol, a job, money, Regina...The only thing he's missing is his son. Maybe one day, when this is all over, he can show Roland these people he's met. Maybe one day.

...:..:..:..:..

It amazes her how much trust he has in Henry. She trusts Henry, more than anyone in the world, but he's her child, she's known him since he was born, obviously, but Robin's known him for four months. Four months and he trusts and ten year old with the biggest secret possible. That's a lot to ask.

"Why do you trust Henry so much?" she finally asks when the bottle's half empty, sitting between them.

"He's a good kid. You've raised him well."

Regina sighs, turning away slightly as she mumbles, "Some people wouldn't agree."

"Like who?" he asks and she feels him shift closer to her.

"My mother, for one."

She's not met Henry, not properly. Regina had left right after he was born, but she knows for a fact that she wouldn't like the way he's been brought up, even if Regina's done the best she can in the circumstances and situations she's been in. Of course, Cora would just blame Regina for that, tell her that she's the one who took him away from luxury and decided to have him grow up here in, what did Robin call it? _The shittiest street in the world._ She supposes he isn't wrong.

"She's an idiot." Robin says, his chin resting against her shoulder. He bows his head down and kisses it, the gesture making Regina's head whip around. He looks up, panic in his eyes and quickly mumbles a _Sorry_ and pulls away.

"No, it's fine." Regina says and it is. It shouldn't be, but it is. It's probably the alcohol talking, she thinks. That, and the sudden desperation for physical contact.

"Is it?" He moves back towards her then but keeps his head elevated on his own.

Something shifts as she looks at him, remembers Daniel's _Sometimes it can act like a love potion_ and she didn't believe it then, liked to think that regardless of what she was under she could still control her emotions, but now...now she understands, now everything suddenly looks differently. Maybe it was there all along and she just tried to ignore it but now she wonders how she managed that as her eyes flick from his eyes to his lips and back again and she sees it reflected in his own eyes, this sudden need to feel close to someone.

She doesn't know who makes the first move, only knows that as their lips smash together, that this is where she wants to stay and never leave.

One of them- _She_ \- moans and Robin uses the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair as they move closer.

They shouldn't do this. Why shouldn't they do this? They're just kissing. Yet she brings him closer to her, hands gripping onto his shirt as his other hand lands on her waist, the bottle and worries forgotten as she lays beneath him, her reason slowly slipping away as her thighs come up around him and he begins kissing down her throat.

She moans at the sensation, his beard doing wonders if all the sensitive parts of her throat as he travels further along. She just wants to stay here in this alcoholic infested safety bubble they've made for themselves yet when she feels a tug on her buttons and one of them pop open, she can't help but frown, even as he gives wonderful little kisses to the newly exposed skin. What is she doing?

She shifts and moves under him, tries to push herself up. "Robin..." And that, her moving around seems to have awakened him to because he looking up at her, panic back in his eyes as he looks down again and realises, realises what they were doing.

He jumps back from her, weight and warmth leaving her, and Regina tries not to be offended, she was the one who stopped this after all.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't mean..."

Regina shakes her head, tells him, "It's fine," and moves to sit up properly, swings her legs back down to the floor and pulls her skirt back down. As she looks down, she catches sight of her undone button and it's nothing, nothing to worry about, she could leave it undone through the day and nobody would bat an eyelid, but she does it back up anyway and takes a glance towards Robin.

The mood's change. It's awkward and Regina wishes her house wasn't so small. Wishes she lived in one of those mansions like Mary Margaret, millions of rooms to run a hide. The furthest she can hide is her son's room, the toilet outside, or the basement and, in all honesty, neither of those options seem like a bad idea.

She notices she's still breathing heavily, he too, and she bits her lip, hands worming together again.

"That wasn't supposed to happen."

Robin nods. "I know." He takes the bottle from the table, and takes a swig, leaning back into the couch. Regina is about to ask for a bit, but then thinks for a second, isn't that bottle the reason they were in this situation anyway.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed." she says and stands up, as if it will make her believe the sentence more. She will go to bed but the chances of sleep coming are very slim, even if the alcohol inside her. This wouldn't have happened had Henry been here and for the first time, she's cursing Hitler Youth and there stupid three day hikes.

"Night." Robin says and with one last small, sad smile, Regina makes her way over to where the bed is.

She draws the curtains across, wishing they weren't as sheer, that she could be hidden from his gaze as she changes because she knows he'll look, he won't be able to help himself and while he won't see everything, nothing will be left to his imagination.

She just wishes she weren't feeling so exposed.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He should've stopped himself.

Shouldn't have let it go that far because now he's lost his company.

He tries not to look, tries to keep his gaze at the floor, it's wrong, even though if she hadn't stopped him, he'd probably be seeing everything by now. So he looks. Just a quick glance towards the end of the room, looking away before he has a chance to actually _look_.

He wishes the house wasn't so small.

He looks to the door to the basement. Would it be too cold to stay down there? Probably, but it'll give him privacy, a chance to rub one off maybe. Yes, basement it is.

So he moves, taking the bottle for good measure, to the basement door until a voice stops him.

"Where are you going?"

He sighs and turns around. She's spied him through the gap in the curtains.

"To the basement."

"You'll freeze."

Yes, he probably will, it's December, after all, and the basement was bad enough to October.

"Just sleep on the couch," she tells him and he watches lie onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

Oh he'd loved to, really would, but there are things that need attending to, things that he was stupid enough to give into in the first place and he can't do that if he's ten feet away from her but he can't tell her that.

"It's fine," he says. "I'll just sleep in the basement." What's the worst that can happen?

"You've not been down there in December," she says and he sighs again, more quietly to himself. "You're sleeping on the couch."

Robin rolls his eyes, couch it is then, though he's at least going to the toilet first. Which would be more helpful if he didn't have to go into Regina's bed space to get to the back door. Honestly, who designed this house and why did they think it was a good idea to live in?

With a deep breath, he pushes the curtain open more, enough space for him to walk through it and returns it to its original closed way. He mummers a, _Just going the loo_ before gripping open the back door and yanking it open.

He's back a few minutes later, quietly opens the door again and takes a glance over to Regina and finds her with her eyes closed. She's probably not asleep, or maybe she is, the alcohol should have done its part by now and he makes his way back to the couch, leaves the Whiskey- the thing that started this whole mess- on the counter and begins making his bed, hoping tomorrow isn't as awkward and he feels like it's going to be.

Only two more days before Henry's back and they can go back to being responsible adults.


	9. Chapter Eight

**More was to be added onto this but I kinda liked how I ended it. Making you guys suffer is what I live for ;) Anyway, as usual, I hope you like this :)**

"Bastard," Robin curses, shaking his hand through the pain that shoot through his hand.

He'd spent most of the morning trying to fix the radio. That, of course, required testing out the wires, seeing where the issue was and, in doing so, giving himself an electric shock.

"That's been broken for ages."

He looks up to see Regina placing a basket on the table, cheeks flushed from the cold and snowflakes dotting her hair.

He remembers when her cheeks where flushed for another-...Nope, he's not going to go down there, not going to think of last night.

They'd been yet to talk about what happened the night before. Robin had tried to when she'd woken up but she'd cut him off, told him that it wasn't important. It might not be important to her, but it is to him. Whatever he feels, she feels it, too. Last night made certain of that and they need to talk about that. They need to start setting boundaries.

"That's why I'm trying to fix it," Robin says, turning his attention back to the radio. "Be nice to get some bloody news around here."

It only occurred to him this morning that he hadn't heard any news on anything since he left for Germany four months ago; Britain and France had declared war on Germany, that's all he knew.

"If you want, I could ask Henry to go to the city and get a newspaper?"

"What good is a German newspaper?" He pauses what he's doing. He's snapping at her now, with no valid reason to. With a sigh he says, "I need something that's in English."

There's a coldness to her tone when she answers and it sends guilt through him.

"That'll be in German, too." she says, nodding to the broken radio, the radio he isn't getting anywhere with. "There is no English news, all you'll get is German and what's affecting Germany. They don't care about England."

Robin sighs, letting go off the wires and pushes the table back into the corner. She's right, of course she's right. Even if he could get the radio back to working, it would all be in German and while Regina could translate, it'll be pointless. _They don't care about England._

He lands on the couch, the seat squeaking and there's a moment where he wonders if it'll break one day, but he pushes that aside, that isn't important right now, and throws his face into his hands. Why is he getting so worked up over this?

"Robin, what's wrong?"

He rubs his hands over his face before dropping them and leaning back against the sofa. Regina's keeping her distance. There's a moment where he thinks that had last night not happened, she'd be sitting next to him, instead she places herself on the chair.

"I don't know." he admits. "I just..." He searches for what is wrong. What is it? What is it that's got him so up in arms over broken radios and situations that mean nothing? "I just want to know what's going on."

It clicks then. What's got him in such a mood since he woke up. It's Roland. His need to know things, know what's going on is because he doesn't know his son is safe. Sure, he's away in the countryside but anything could happen. Anything could be happening.

He wonders if he should tell her. Tell her about Roland. He doesn't know why he hasn't, actually.

"What are you thinking about?"

 _My son._

"Last night," he lies. Why did he lie? _No, my son. I have a child, you know. He's four. I'm not sure if he knows I'm alive._ That's all he'd have to say. It would probably be left at that. She'd ask him why he didn't tell her and well, isn't it unnecessary? She doesn't have to know everything. She doesn't know everything, she doesn't know barely a thing.

"That was a misunderstanding." she sighs.

Well, least they're talking about it now.

"So there's nothing?" he asks. He looks towards her then, ripping his eyes away from the space he'd been staring at. He watches her eyes dart around the room, she's searching for an answer, maybe a lie, anything to deny whatever she felt last night and she did feel something; last night wasn't just him, wasn't just the alcohol. She'd made the first move after all.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She knew the questioning would come soon enough. She hadn't intended it on being the first thing he says to her the moment she wakes up, but she knew she could bat it away then, put it down to it being too early in the morning to speak of such things.

Now, though, she has no excuse.

 _So there's nothing?_

Oh there's definitely something. Of course, she'd tried to kid herself, tried to tell herself that what she began feeling wasn't there, wasn't real, was made up of three years of loneliness. Robin is a friend. A dangerous friend. A friend she shouldn't have. But a friend all the same.

Until last night.

Something switched last night, something changed. The alcohol wasn't the reason, she can see that now. Even months before last night, the way her heart would flutter whenever she caught him and Henry together. Or that one time when he offered to cook (she can particularly remember Henry's scandalous look and his exclaim of _English are weird_ which had earned him a laugh from Robin and a smile from Regina) Or those times when he'd sit a little too close to her on the couch and it had her wanting to lean back into his body and just stay there, never moving.

Even those early days, those three days tending to him, there was something there, something different to what she had with Daniel. There was always something there, right from the beginning.

She just wanted to deny it. Did deny it.

"Regina?"

"Do-"

A pounding on the door interrupts her and Regina freezes. It's the knock they'd be dreading since the first visit and Regina's blood runs cold. She locks eyes with Robin, sees the same panic and fear reflected in his own eyes.

 _It's going to be fine,_ she tells herself. _Just go with the same story as last time._

Another pounding sounds and they're getting impatient. Any moment now and she'll have no front door left. Robin's eyes flick towards the door, silently telling her to open it. So, with a swallow and a deep breath, she opens the door.

Nobody could prepare them for what happens next.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Anxiety swirls around in his stomach as he waits in the make-shift office, thumbs drumming on his finger as his leg bounce lightly.

Henry doesn't like this.

He'd been called into the office half an hour ago, when one of the patrol officers came to fetch him. He hadn't answered any of Henry's questions, just roughly pushed him along the path but Henry knew it wasn't for anything good, his gut told him that.

Now he waits, eyes glancing every so often to the clock or to the door, waiting for someone to enter.

"Mills, is it?"

Henry automatically stands, just as he'd been taught, at the sound of the soldier's voice as the man shuts the tent flaps and makes his way around the desk.

"Yes, sir." Henry says, keeping his voice even and eyes hard even through inside he wants to run away (he won't, though, he's too stubborn for that)

The man shifts through one of the draws, pulling out a file and begins reading to himself.

"Born on the 15th August, 1928 in Munich, Bavaria...Resides in 108, Glücklich Street. Mother is Regina Mills and...your father's name has been blocked out," he lowers the file and looks at Henry. "Any reason why?"

He tries to keep from fidgeting as he answers. "He left us when I was seven."

The man hums, throwing the file onto the table.

"You can sit." he says, gesturing towards Henry's seat as he takes his own.

Henry plops back down, thumbs going back to its drumming motion only this time he keeps his legs still.

"So it's just been you and your mother ever since?"

He keeps his face straight, not liking where this is going at all and nods, hoping his _Yes, sir_ isn't as meek as it sounds to him.

The soldier leans forward, eyes narrowing as they search Henry's face, any signs of lying and Henry isn't the best liar, according to Mama anyway, she can always tell when he's lying. He hopes to anything out there and this man isn't as clever or observant.

"Really?" and Henry nods again, firmer, believing it for himself. The soldier hums, leaning back. "You see though, Henry, we have reason to suspect that you and your mother are housing someone you're not supposed to."

Henry gulps, he feels sick right now, all he wants to do is go home, not be here.

"I mean, you understand the seriousness of that, don't you?"

Henry bites the inside of his lip, not wanting to believe exactly what the man is saying. He knows. He knows about Robin. Someone told him... _Sid._ Sid Müller. An anger burns through him, anger stronger than when Neal insulted his mother. Sid told them. He said it wouldn't and he did. And now Mama...Mama...

Robin will stop them. Robin won't let them. Robin is a soldier. Ten times the soldier any of these are, he won't let them hurt her. He promised!

"Answer me."

His tone goes up a notch, even more threatening, less condescending, and Henry nods. There's no point in denying it now. So he nods, a worried breath escaping him.

"So, I need you to tell me, Henry. Do you have an English soldier, _you're country's enemy,_ living in your home right now?"

He wants to say no, his hands knotting together, he's breaking, his fear shining through.

 _Robin will protect her._

"Yes." It's a whisper but the soldier hears it, a sigh of relief? Disappointment? breathing out of him.

"Pack up your belongings, Mills. You'll be escorted out and placed in a temporary home."

Henry's head shoots up, eyes widening and he shakes it head, too shocked to form words. He doesn't want to go to a temporary home, he wants to go to his home, his home with Mama.

He wants his mother.

"I want my mama," he begins pleading, the words falling out of him. "Please. She didn't mean it. It was my fault. I told her we had to save him. It was me. It was my-"

The man holds his hand up, silencing him and like a dog trained, Henry instantly shuts up.

"You're the child. You're mother is the adult. She let herself be overruled by the child and her better judgement. She committed the crime. She is the one who suffers to consequences."

"No!" He wants to scream, shout, cry, anything to get this man to listen. It's his fault. He should never have told Rudy. Never should have followed his ball. It was him. It was him!

His pleads are useless, though. The officer who arrived here with him is dragging him out even as he screams and cries and shouts _It was me! It was my fault! Don't hurt my mama, please!_ He drags him to his and Rudy's camp, and drags him to the bus.

 _Please don't hurt my mama._


	10. Chapter Nine

**So you all wanted an update ASAP so I gave you an update ASAP. There's probs gonna be three parts to this. Chapter eight, chapter nine, and chapter ten. I mean I could if I wanted write what I plan for chapter ten into this one but where's the fun in that, I like making you guys suffer. Also, there are points where not just the POV end but the whole chapter ends and I feel like this was one of those points. I'm also thinking of publishing this in the future (once it's all written and I've got a life) but I'm not sure if people would actually buy/read it so...yay or nay? Anyway, as usual, I hope you like it :)**

 **1914**

 _She lingers by the doorway to the parlour, keeping out the way of servants to tow and fro from the room to outside, carrying luggage and belongings to the car._

 _She was supposed to be asleep. Sent to bed ages ago, Mother telling her to stay up there while important matters were dealt with but Regina couldn't. She'd tried sleeping but she couldn't. It was too loud and she'd wanted to know what was going on, tried listening from the bedroom door but all she got was muffled noises, the servants too loud for conversations to be heard, not that Regina was really interested in what was being said, she was kept out of the loop, forced out of rooms once military matters had started being discussed;_ Fifteen year old girls don't understand these types of things _. Mother hadn't given her much of a chance to fight back, to stay in the room, she'd all but dragged Regina out herself, shutting the doors and forbidding Regina to enter until they had left._

 _So what was being said didn't matter to her anymore, all she wanted was to see her father. For, what could be, the last time._

 _"Do you have to go?"_

 _She sees her father startle a bit. Looking up and locking eyes with her through the mirror as he fixes his uniform._

 _"Yes, Regina. I do."_

 _She can hear it in his voice how much he doesn't want to go. But he has a duty, he tells her. A duty to his country and to his leader._

 _Regina enters the room, certain that the servants are done packing the car, and embraces him. Her head tucking beneath his chin as she holds on tightly, unwilling to want to let go._

 _"I'll be back before you know, it Regina." Henry tells her. "Russia will yield, and then I'll come home."_

 _She nods, believing the words, that at the end of the months away he'll be back at that door, unwounded, free, and his duty fulfilled._

 _"You should be asleep."_

 _They let go of each other, Regina turning to see her mother standing at the door._

 _"How is she supposed to sleep through all the noise?" Henry asks her but Cora rebuffs him._

 _"Perhaps_ _ **trying**_ _would help." she says, her focus entirely on Regina. "Go."_

 _She doesn't fight to stay, just looks back towards her father and gives him one last small smile._

 _"I'll be back. I promise."_

 _Regina leaves, makes her way to the stairs as Cora hisses, "You shouldn't be promising her anything." but Regina ignores it, shutting her door and climbing into her bed. Sleep doesn't come, not until hours later when the sun is nearly risen and the front door slams._

 _Russia may have been defeated but her father never came home._

.:.:.:.:.:.

He keeps quiet, letting Regina do the talking. He's unsure what she's saying but two Nazis are listening to her, he thinks, but the other one; the blonde one with his blue eyes, Peter he remembers him being called from last time, his staring at him, paying no attention to what Regina is saying, his eyes just locked on Robin, and it's making him uncomfortable.

 _He knows._

"We've had reason to guess that all you've just said isn't true."

Peter pipes up once Regina stops talking yet he doesn't move his gaze from Robin, he just sits there on the chair Regina pulled out for him while everyone else (minus Robin who sits on the couch) stands around.

"Isn't true?" There's an uneasiness to Regina's tone, it quakes like he's never heard it never has.

"Whispers from a boy, of course,"

A boy. _Henry?_ No, surely Henry wouldn't tell anyone about him here...

"Sid Müller. He overheard your boy telling Rudy Günther about an English soldier residing here."

And Robin's heart deflates. That anxiety tightening. Ten year olds aren't to be trusted regardless who they are.

He knows the three of them; Henry, Rudy and this Sid probably don't understand the seriousness they've caused. It's not their faults...

"That's not true, is it?" Peter directs his focus to Regina then, all eyes on her and he watches her trying not to fidget, not let on the truth. It's hopeless, they know. She can lie, stall them all she wants but it's inevitable. How did they ever think they could get away with this?

"Do I take your silence as a yes?"

It's killing him, this interrogation they're having. He wants her to just tell him the truth but if she does that, that's it for both of them. They probably won't make it to tomorrow.

"Where's my son?"

He can see the worry on her face, the fear that something might have happened to Henry and he too does want to know what they plan to do with the boy. He's innocent...ish, but either way he's still just a ten year old boy. He shouldn't be held accountable.

"He's been placed in temporary care." Another one answers, brown hair and a glint in his eyes. "He's fine. Being well looked after."

Bollocks, Robin thinks. The poor boy's fearing for his life, and them.

"Stop avoiding the questions." Peter cuts, his voice sharp. He points towards Robin. "Is he, or is he not, English?"

He sees her eyes wander over to him, the question of if she should answer yes or not. Their fate is doomed either way, they can't stay here forever, they won't keep waiting patiently, it's only time before they turn to violence to get the answers. So he nods as subtlety as he can and Regina looks away.

 _Yes_...

A whisper, almost missed if you weren't paying attention but Peter heard it. That boyish smirk appearing across his face, his eyes solely on Robin.

He's got his pray.

.:.:.:.:.:.

Her mind is in overdrive.

The constant question of why did this happen repeating itself over and over as she tells the story she told last time; Robin is a mute, they're married, he's Henry's father. But she knows there's no point. There's no point because they know the truth, they know Robin's English and they know what she's done.

Because Henry told Rudy the truth.

Because Sid Müller told the first soldier he came across.

Neither of them could have realised the seriousness they've caused.

And Regina doesn't know what to do.

Two soldiers were listening to her but the other one, the blonde one, was just staring at Robin. Then he'd dropped the bomb shell. The reason they're here and what they plan to do. They aren't getting out of this one.

Still, she looks towards Robin when the blonde asks if she is keeping an English here; it's gonna kill him as much as it will kill her, she wants his consent, know that he's fine with this (or as fine as can be) that he doesn't want her to lie anymore.

So she says _yes_ and once the words leave her mouth everything goes silent for a second at least, before two dart for Robin and one grabs her.

His hand grips her tightly, squeezing and it hurts, her heart thudding in her chest as Robin tries to fight the other two of them. She wants to tell him that it's useless, they're too overpowering, that it will only be worse for him, but words don't come to her, she just stands there, feeling completely paralysed and watches as the blonde and the brunette soldier kick and beat Robin to keep him still.

Her mind reels for Henry, though. They told her that he'd been placed in temporary care, has he even been told what's going on? What's happened? Or is he sitting there in an empty room, tears streaming down his face as he cries out for his mama who won't be there. Who won't be coming back.

And it breaks her.

Has that mask she puts on in front of everyone slipping away, the tears rush to her eyes as she aches to reach out, tell him that everything is fine and she'll be okay.

She won't be.

And neither will he.

A whimper escapes. In the back of her mind is her mother's voice telling her that crying is a weakness, even when everything hurts and aches, even when she's scared.

She's handled roughly. A shaking and a telling to _Shut up_. She's lost all power and Robin's given up. Given up fighting as he's standing between the two soldiers motionless, all weight cast onto his right leg as his walking stick stays leant against the couch.

God, how did they think they were going to get away with this?

Regina is pushed forward by the one holding her; he's tall, with greyish hair that goes to his shoulders, gold teeth. He's no older than her father had been and there's a moment where she thinks if he fought alongside her father in the first war, perhaps saw him die? Maybe he bonded with him in the trenches, spoke of their families, of their children they'd left at home.

There's an anger that rushes through her. That this man could very well know who she is, whose daughter she is, and yet he's leading her to her death.

He's the one who opens the door, pushing her out of it. It's snowing lightly, snow covering the ground and it's cold; the chill biting at her skin. Her hands come up to fold around her arms but the soldier forces them down, she can't even preserve body heat.

It's the audience that disturbs her. There's more soldiers outside, each one standing just a little in front of the doors, the residence of Glücklich Street all came out to see what the commotion was and now they were watching her, judging her. Regina wonders if they know what she's done, know what nationality Robin was.

She hates their eyes on her.

Hates them watching her. She sees a truck just before the hill, the truck she and Robin are about to be taken to. They're going to the city; Munich, Regina knows because that were their prison is.

And that scares her all of a sudden.

She's never seen a prison, her mother would be motified- the idea of _her_ daughter getting sent to prison. And there's a brief thought to her father; would he be proud of her for rescuing an innocent man even if he's English, if he's technically the enemy, if he's killed thousands of other Germans.

(But then haven't Germans killed thousands of Englishmen too? Hasn't her father?)

Or is he disappointed with her. Disappointed with her going against her country?

Regina prefers to think of the latter. The latter is a nicer thought.

The truck of the truck open and Regina's pushed towards it and god, they like pushing don't they? She scrambles up into the back. There's no ladder, step, ledge so she uses as much strength she has to pull herself into the truck. Feet trying to grip onto the rear of the vehicle in flats that have no grip at all so her feet scrap, falling onto the snow (there's bit of snow in her shoe now and it's cold, sends a chill through her body) Her knee catches a pointy bit of metal and cuts the skin there; it's a tiny cut but Regina imagines the blood bubbling out and running down her knee. Great, she can't even climb into a truck without injuring herself.

The blonde soldier shouts to _Hurry up_ and she hears Robin ask if he can help her up at least but there's no point, the soldier who was holding her does it for him, lifting her by the waist and helping her up. She guesses if the circumstances were different she'd thank him for it but instead she turns (no way is she being on her hands and knees in front of these people) and glares daggers at him. He gives her no response, just turns to Robin and tells him to get up himself, which he does, with no problem.

Before the door shuts the blonde soldier is climbing up as well and Regina should have known they wouldn't have been left alone in the back. They'd think they'd be planning their escape route or something (which they probably would) so Regina doesn't say anything, just shuffles to the far corner as Robin takes the corner closest to the door and the soldier takes the corner opposite.

Regina curls herself in a ball, keeps her mind on anything other than where they're headed. She thinks of Henry but happier times, when he was a baby and his father was there and war was non-existence and they were happy. _Very_ happy.

The back doors of the truck shut and they are covered in darkness.

.:.:.:.:.:.

He's aches to hold her. To pull her into his chest and tell her everything's going to be okay.

(It isn't, but for the journey they have they can believe it)

Yet Robin knows he can't move. Regina's curled up in a ball on the other side, head leaning against the sides and her eyes closed. He wonders what she's thinking about. Henry, most likely, the only one she cares about in all this.

His own thoughts drift over to Roland. Will he ever see him again? He'd hoped to leave, find away to leave this country once everything had calmed down back in England, when it was safe to live there again. He wonders what's happening there right now.

He'd evacuated Roland when he heard he was being sent to Germany, sent him to the countryside to live with Robin's sister. He'd hoped to hear from her, from them, tales of how much Roland loves it there, how he's growing, discovering new things. Have letters been sent? Are they waiting for him at the Headquarters? Or are there just none at all? Lost in the travel. Intercepted along the way.

Now he'll never know.

Now he'll never see Roland again. Just as Regina will never see Henry and vice versa.

God, what are they gonna do to that little boy once they're done with his mother?

"Not very talkative, are you?"

Robin looks up, his fingers intertwining with each other as he stares at Peter and his feeble attempts to talk to Regina. It makes his blood boil, especially when he leans over slightly and swats her arm, trying to get her attention. He resists the urge to lean forward himself and punch Peter in the face. Instead he grits his teeth, grabs hold of his anger and keeps his fingers fidgeting with each other.

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Robin says and Peter looks over at him.

"Such a shame," he says. "I like talking to my prisoners, makes the journey more entertaining."

It falls silent then, Peter adjusting his uniform for something to do. The truck shakes a bit, rattling them around as they go over bump after bump after bump. Robin grits his teeth at each painful landing, cursing the bloody driver. Asshole.

He looks towards Regina and frowns when he notices the blood running down her leg. Does she know about it? She clearly isn't fazed by it, her eyes still closed, still curled up in a ball.

"You're bleeding." he says and she looks up, eyes red and he realises that the whole time her eyes had been closed she'd been silently crying. It feels as though someone's just yanked his heart out, the slight of her tear stained cheeks as she moves her blood-soaked skirt out of the way and sees the blood, touching it then moving to inspect the wound.

It's a tiny scratch but one that pours blood forever. With nothing else to use to wipe it up, Regina uses her dress, mopping up the line of blood and pressing the fabric to her knee to stop the cut from bleeding.

Robin bites his lip, stopping the smile from forming, not sure of dear Peter's reaction if he saw him smiling on his way to death. He wasn't conscious when she tended to his wounds but he imagines how she did it. Mopping up the blood around it with a cloth, stitching the bullet hole closed, bandaging it. He wonders if healing is something she'd always been able to do or did she just learn with motherhood. When Henry came in from outside with all manners of scrapes and cuts and bruises and Regina had taught herself how to mend each one, to sooth each one, and pour every bit of her love into her healing.

Marian had learnt with motherhood, he remembers. All of times Roland fell over and in those moments he wanted _Mummy not Daddy_ and Marian had come running, sorting out all the wounds. Roland probably won't remember that, he'll just see a faceless woman, one he knows by the name of _Mummy_.

It's a blessing not remembering. You don't fully feel the pain, can't fully mourn someone you don't remember. His eyes wander back over to Regina again as he thinks of Henry. Of Henry remembering every part of his mother and having to grieve her once she's gone.

Will he hate him? Robin made a promise to protect Regina, to make sure nothing happened to her. Yet here they are, in the back of a truck, on the way to Hell and a little ten year old boy has been left behind. Left behind to fend for himself.

He promised to protect her.

He promised, and he failed.


	11. Chapter Ten

**We made it to chapter ten guys, yay! Thought I'd give you a Henry POV just so we see what he's getting up to. Quite proud of this chapter, personally, despite the fight I had with it (cough*Regina's POV*cough) but all in all I like how this turned out. Any questions ya'll can find me on Tumblr: regaloutlaws or regaloutlawswrites, either one will do. Hope you enjoy :)**

He places the unlit candle on the chest of draws, reaching for a match and scratching it against the side before hovering the flame above the candle, watching as it attaches onto the stick and flickers. The last candle to set the room into an orangey glow as he drops the used match next to it and sits down on the bed, waiting.

It's strange how he's got used to this type of life now. Life away from big houses and electricity. Now it's just compact rooms and candles. Curtains making door frames and bedrooms in kitchens. It's home, though. Against everything, it's home. Their home.

He hears laughter sound from upstairs. _Roland's_ laughter and Robin frowns- that isn't right, Roland shouldn't be here. Yet it feels right. Feels safe. It's summer now, the snow all cleared up, clearing the war up with it. It's safe to go outside, to not worry about being taken back to England. That's why Roland's here. He's here because it's safe and right and everything's fine. It's all fine.

Beside him, the basement door opens and his attention is immediately taken to it. He sees her. Her silhouette through the curtain, the wet strands of hair that hook around, ready to curl. Robin smiles. They'd removed the paint and bits of artwork out of the basement. She hadn't wanted to but Robin told her that it was for the best, the room below could become of some use then so she'd relented, allowed them to go and they'd sold them to people on the street, made quite a small fortune that Robin was proud of and paid someone to insulate the basement, turn it into a sort of bathroom for them to use instead of having to hide behind sheer curtains. Now they had privacy.

His smile brightens, widens, when the curtain is pulled back. He can't see her, though. For some reason, her face isn't visible and Robin feels himself frowning, his hand gripping the covers that belong to _her_. It's her house, her son that's sleep upstairs, she who saved him against everything, but he can't see her. He wants to see her, begs to see her.

"What you frowning for?" Her fingers ghost over his face like they're trying to remove his frown and even if he can't see what she looks like he can still feel her, that gentle touch that he's got to know over the years. His mouth follows her fingers, reaching up to grasp hold of her hand and kiss each finger. He hears her breathe out heavily and he shuts his eyes, rests his cheek against a soft fist, breathing out,

 _Regina..._

When he opens his eyes again he can see her, see her face and the way the glow from the candles dance in her eyes, showing all the colours in there. He's stuck. Stuck staring into them as his heart doubles in speed, the space between each _Lub_ quicker. The frown changes back into a smile, a lob-sided one, stupid and ridiculous, but one filled with love, so much love.

She gives him her own smile. Her own elusive smile that he rarely got to see yet remembered each moment he did.

"That's better," she whispers, leaning down to kiss him, lips connecting with each other as one of them hums- maybe him, he's not entirely sure- yet his eyes shut, savouring the moment like it's going to be their last and perhaps in another world, this is wrong, that they shouldn't be doing this, but that's for another world to deal with because, in this world, this is right. It's the only thing that's ever been right.

He falls back against the mattress taking Regina with him as she lets out a _Hmpf_ , falling against his chest as their kiss is broken. Her hair's still wet, the strands soaking his shirt and fingers as his hand comes up to scratch her scalp but he doesn't care, just listens to the way she purrs quietly, eyes shutting briefly.

They hear another burst of laughter, this time from both Henry and Roland and it's amazing how much they enjoy each other's company now, amazing how there's a six year gap between the two yet they're like brothers, close as twins. The dog- Hope, Henry called her Hope- barks and perhaps he or Regina should shout up and tell them that it's time for bed, that they should have been asleep ages ago, yet either of them can be bothered to move from this curtain of safety, this bubble they've created for themselves. So they leave the three of them. They'll fall asleep in their own time, it's not going to kill anyone, not anymore.

Regina shifts, pushing herself away from Robin's chest and he mourns the contact, the warm of her leaving his body, his hand slipping out of his hair. She looks up at him and...her face is serious, the mood changing, but he can see a fear in her eyes, fear that wasn't there before, fear that shouldn't be at there at all.

Her words have him frowning, panic seizing him as he realises they may not be as safe as he thought.

"You have to get us out of here, Robin. We're going to die."

Everything around him begins fading. The candles, the curtains, Roland's laughter, Hope's barking. The room is slipping away but it's only when he sees Regina starting to drift away from him that he really cries out. Arms reaching out to grasp onto her but she's too far away, he can't get to her, can't move from his position on the bed that isn't there anymore. His hands fly up above him, clutching onto air, gripping nothing.

She's gone. Everything's gone. He's alone. All alone.

Light breaks into the truck. His eyes open slowly, adjusting to the offensive glare as he blinks a few times.

His heart sinks when he realises where he is. In the back of the truck, neck stiff from sleeping in a weird angle, on the way to his death, ripped from his dream.

A cruel, cruel dream.

He takes a glance towards Regina, still huddled up in the same position she's been since they first climbed into the vehicle. She's awakening too, it seems, also adjusting. Robin wants nothing more than to close his eyes, retreat to his dream, the part before everything began slipping away, see where else that kiss takes them. He does shut his eyes, briefly, before the second door his yanked open, he shuts his eyes, tries taking himself back to that moment. What had she said? He needed to save them. How the hell was he supposed to do that?

He doesn't have time to ponder on it, though. The second door is being opened and Robin is being pulled from the truck.

He lands on his legs awkwardly- both from sitting down for too long and for his bad leg in general. Regina's right behind him, however. It doesn't exactly warm his heart to see them treat Regina with a bit more care, surprising considering their criminals from this point onwards, both scum in the eyes of those around, so perhaps it's just insult that Peter holds out his hand for her to help her jump down from the vehicle. He sees her take it gingerly, unsure, but does so anyway. That or she tries to find another, less shameful way, to hop off the truck.

With a pang of sadness he realises this may well be the last time he ever sees her and how he wishes it was any other moment than this. The journey hasn't been any kinder to her than it has to him. It's left her own limbs stiff, worry and fear clouding her expressions, an emptiness in her eyes, hair matted and frizzy. It's against the rules (and possibly even the law, Robin doesn't know) for women and girls to wear their hair down, a stupid rule, but she hadn't exactly had much time to throw it up before these soldiers came barging in, forcing them out of their home ( _their_ home. Heh, when had he began thinking of Regina's house as their home?) He expects someone to say something, make a passing, degrading comment but maybe they don't notice which makes you think why it's even a rule anyway.

(Why is he even worrying about this, he's about to die. Well, maybe that is the reason, anything to take his mind off death)

It only then, actually, that Robin takes in his surroundings. It's quiet, he guesses most people are inside and that's when he looks to see what exactly inside is and his heart sinks, fear gripping him truly now as he turns to the building, taking in the iron gates with their barbed fencing, derelict building, all grey and dull and it couldn't be could it? Surely not, Robin only knew of a few, mostly what he'd overheard; Poland, the Netherlands, even one in France. He knew they'd have them in Germany, but was this one of them? Really? In...wherever they were?

He takes a glance towards Regina again, sees her looking at the building and that's when she catches his eye, the same question highlighted in her looks. As subtlety as he can, Robin shrugs. Maybe it's not. Maybe it just looks like one. He hopes to God that that's the case.

"Don't worry," Peter says, a smirk across his face when his voice catches Robin and Regina's attention. "It's not what you think. Sadly we couldn't use one. Shame really, don't you think?"

Robin chooses not to answer. Regina, too. Maybe it's best they don't speak at all, it could only make things worse.

"We should probably get them inside." A brown-haired man says, the one who went down to the basement during the first visit. "Get that one locked up," he nods to Regina who only gives him a stone-cold look. "We should probably get talking to that one," he looks towards Robin. "see what he wants."

Peter turns towards Regina, "Ready, my lady?" In full mockery, he offers his arm out to her but she doesn't take it, just moves that same expression from the brown-haired soldier to Peter and Peter drops his arm, reaching to grip Regina's as he half-pulls, half-drags her inside.

"I'll get this one settled in," he shouts before he enters. "I'll come back for the other one. Don't want to miss the fun after all."

Robin watches the two leave, clenches his hand into a fist and bites the inside of his cheek, fully prepared for whatever this pathetic excuses for men want to throw at him.

.:.:.:.:.:.

Her heart is hammering. Beating against her chest at a rapid pace. She spares a thought to Robin, the wondering of where they're taking him, what's going to happen to him, yet her own predicament has her thoughts solely on herself.

Her palms are sweaty, can feel it in her clench fist as she's led down the corridor. Not for the first time, she wonders how they let it get to this stage and not for the first time, does her mind wander back to Henry. Regina almost as the impulse to ask again where he is, how is he, is he in good care, but it's futiless, she knows it is. She'll just get the same answer she got the last time.

But how she hopes he's okay, hopes he's being treated well. None of this is his fault, after all, nobody can blame a ten year old, not even these heartless bastards. It was a mistake. An innocent mistake put into the wrong hands. Though if it's anyone's neck she wants to wring, it's Sid Müller's; she never liked the child in the first place, his parents had no control of him (at least his sister turned out to be alright somehow) She doesn't condemn violence, at least when it comes to Henry anyway, but half of her also hopes for him to do what he did to Neal Nolan- only this time not result in him getting suspended from school.

"You can wait in there."

Peter's voice has her coming back to now. Now, where she is and she's actually surprised to find the cells around her empty. For some reason, that doesn't set right in her stomach but she says nothing, waits for Peter to let go of her arm and walks herself into the cell, turning around just as he shuts the bars and locks in her.

There was never a moment in her life where she thought she'd be imprisoned, never for this reason or any reason even. Cora would never live through it. Regina can almost hear her voice now, telling her how much of a disgrace she is to this family, how she's tarnished their name (their name was already tarnished once she was added to the family) but she pushes Cora away, now is not the time for her mother to make herself known as Regina's subconscious.

"Be interesting to see how long you stay in here. From what I heard the likes of _you_ don't stay every long."

Regina frowns at that, unsure what type of 'you' he was preferring to. The fact that she's now a criminal or that she's not part of the 'pure' race. Either way she says quiet, an amazing feat for her, if the circumstances were different perhaps she'd congratulate herself.

"Quiet one, aren't you?" Peter says, his head cocking to the side. Regina feels a shiver run through her as she studies her, the way his gaze lingers on certain parts of her. The dress she chose to wear isn't the most revealing. Hidden in the basement, between old corsets and floor length dresses she wore as a teenager, are clothes that would certainly get the word 'whore' thrown around whenever she walked through the street but the dress she wears today is a little low cut, not much, but still enough to have some prudes raise their eyebrows and scorn, and yes, the middle button does strain a tiny bit but there was nothing she could do about that. In all honestly, she doesn't wear this dress to catch anyone's attention, not even Robin, she wore it because it was practical, still stuck to the rules that were thrown upon them once Hitler became in charge, and she even _likes_ it, as crazy as that may sound.

"We'll soon have you screaming for your life...or death."

The smirk he gives her as Regina desperately trying not to show her distaste. She's amongst animals, creatures who don't know how to behave around others, would willingly attack a group of people because they were a certain religion, so Regina has no qualms about why she'd be begging for her death. The thought should repel her, and it does- the last thing she wants is any of these people near her than necessary.

She's grateful when he leaves, means she can now just sit alone, cry, scream, do whatever she wanted to and keep her thoughts away from Robin, what they would- _will_ \- do to him.

She sits on the metal bench (guesses that's to be her bed for the night) resists the urge to pick at the skin around her nails, Cora's voice being heard once more; _It's such a dirty habit, Regina; one a lady shouldn't do. The state of your fingers, Regina, seriously._ Instead she stares at the wall and tries to make herself as numb as possible.

.:.:..:.:.:.

 _The place is swarmed- men and boys running everywhere, lines spewing from tables near the back. Everyone is hoping to gain a place in the army- any army- anything to fight for their country._

 _And now it was Robin's turn._

 _"We should go home," Marian says, adjusting Roland on her hip. The boy is dazed, tired from being woken up early in order to get here, eyes trying to take in the recruitment station, all the people there. Yes, they should go home; she and Roland._

 _"You go," Robin says, sighing. "You don't need to be here."_

 _"Neither do you." she counters back, keeping her voice low and Robin rolls his eyes. He's lost count of the amount of times they've had this argument. Marian wanted him to stay, Robin wanted to go. He did_ _ **want**_ _to go, the posters had no affect on him, this was his choice. Something Marian clearly didn't understand._

 _"Nobody's forcing you to be here, Robin."_

 _"I_ _ **know**_ _," Robin says through gritted teeth. He was told the first time that war, the discipline, would help him with his 'anger issues'. It was the orphanage staff to told him that and out of stubborn-ness, he didn't believe them and actively told them to "fuck off" before packing his bag and leaving the place, leaving it for good._

 _Now he'd had some thought about it, and now the chance to join and fight has came again, and this time he's taking it._

 _"So why are we here?"_

 _"Because I want to be here, Marian. I want this."_

 _Marian scoffs. "What? You want your son to grow up without a father?" Her voice raises a little and those closest to them turn their heads, eyeing them. She, at least, has the decency to look at bit ashamed when she notices their glances. A recruitment station isn't the best place to have an argument, after all._

 _Lowering her voice, she carries on. "Because that's what happened to me."_

 _Yes, Robin knows the story. Knows how Marian's father joined the army, fought in the war, and never returned home, but that won't happen to him. Sure, he's not the scrawny little kid he used to be but he's still not about to be put out on the front, leading the army into battle, he'll be on the sidelines- helping as much as he can. That's what he wants._

 _"I can't stay here and do nothing."_

 _"You're not staying here and doing nothing, you're caring for your son."_

 _Robin sighs again, running a hand over his face as the line begins moving._

 _"Go home, Marian."_

 _"No."_

 _God, how did he end up marrying someone so stubborn?_

 _"Fine," he says. "If you won't go home for yourself, go home for Roland. Get him to bed."_

 _She looks towards the child still in her arms, gives one look at his hanging head and drooping eyes._

 _"Fine," she says, adjusting him once more. "Guess I better start preparing your photos, least he's got some memory of you."_

 _He watches as she leaves, making her way through the crowds of men, even pushing some of them out of the way._

 _Robin shakes his head. He's going to come home, he'll fight to come home._

Why that memory, Robin wonders. Is it because what Marian says has now ended up being true? Or maybe it's the irony of it all. He's not out on the front, he's on the sidelines, just as he wanted to be, yet here he is, still about to die.

Yes, it's the irony.

And Roland...Roland who'll have no idea of his death. He's on his way to becoming an orphan, just like his father.

Like father, like son; isn't that what they say?

He focuses on his fingers. His ankles are tied to the legs of the chair but least they let his hands be free. He glances towards the soldier; the brown-haired on and the old one who'd escorted Regina to the truck back home. They're talking German; his German was never too advanced, he knew the basics and the basics only but even if he was fluent in the language, he'd still have no idea what they were saying, the only words he can remember are _Danke_ and _Ich liebe dich_ either useful in this situation.

He wonders where Peter's gone. Knows he took Regina to her cell. _Regina..._ He hopes she's okay, hopes she isn't fretting over him. Her worries are too good to be wasted on him, he's the reason she's here. Not at home, cooking Henry's food and Henry! Has someone told him what's going on? What's happened? Is the boy hating himself, blaming himself? Or is he left in the dark, worrying about where his mother's gone.

He'll never know. None of them will ever know.

God, this is all his fault.

He should have listened to Marian, he thinks. Two years ago, he should've listened to Marian, should have gone home with her and Roland when she said.

He wouldn't be here, dragging Regina and Henry and god knows who else into this mess.

It was a mess to begin with. Henry should have left him to die in that field.

His fist thuds against the table, perhaps the wrong move to make as it as the soldiers stopping their conversation, looking towards them, but Robin doesn't care. He angry, can feel his restraints wrapped around his feet, unable to move. It's frustrating it, driving him crazy. All he can feel is anger, anger tightening in his chest. They never train you for these situations surprisingly, never train you for capture, or at least never trained him. His fist thuds the table once more, teeth biting in his lip to keep from screaming.

"Getting angry, are we?"

It's the old one who speaks and Robin spares him a glance, a hate filled glance, before turning away and looking down at this fingers once more, the side of his hand budding with pain.

"Can you blame me?" he says, still focused on his fist.

"So you have a voice? No longer the mute husband stuck in bed?"

Robin lets out a sort of _heh_ at that, not a laugh or a scorn, somewhere in between. The lie, Regina's lie to keep them from getting into trouble earlier. A waste, Robin thinks. They were never getting away with this.

The man moves towards the chair and Robin prepares himself for the interrogation, the questions he's sure to be asked but the brown-haired solider has the man stopping, speaking in German, he asks a question.

"He'll want us to start," the man answers. "And no need for German, Isaac. English will suit us just fine. We'll need it so he can understand us."

Maybe that last part was supposed to be an insult, the man has no idea that Robin's at least a little educated in the language but he guesses he could take it as an honour, be grateful that he's not being forced to speak a language he doesn't know.

"Let's start with the easy questions, shall we?" the man says and his friend- Isaac- takes the seat next to him, all eyes on Robin. "Why were you sent here?"

Robin shifts, letting out a breath and begins. Begins telling the story of why he's here, who saved him, how he ended up living in Regina's house, where he works, how he got work, even the German lessons.

He leaves out one crucial part, however. In fact, he leaves out two; his son back in England and another, not so necessary part but one that could be used greatly if in the wrong hands.

He leaves out the part where he fell in love with his rescuer.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The knock against the door has his fist clenching, teeth gritting. Don't these people understand he just wants to be alone? He doesn't want to have anything to do with these people, they're nothing to him. He wants his mama and Robin. His ball and house and Mama's potato soup. He doesn't want fancy meals, three course meals that he only eats half of, big houses with big rooms that just make him feel lonely. He wants that he had. He wants what he knows.

"Henry?" Her voice is cautious, hesitant to disturb him and good, it should be. "Henry, you can't stay in here forever."

"Go away!" he shouts back. His back is to the door, sitting on a bed that isn't his bed, staring at a wall that it isn't his wall.

Maybe it's a little unfair, she's only trying to help him but...she can't bring back Mama, so there's no point in her being here, she might as well just go away.

"I know you blame yourself for what happened to your mother-"

Fury serges through him, none he's felt since he punched Neal Nolan. Whipping his head towards the door as tears begin forming in his eyes, he shouts, "Go away! You don't know anything about that!"

There's a sniffle from him, fighting back those tears that haven't stop coming since he was dragged away from the office. He turns his head back to facing the wall, wiping the tretcherous tears that won't stop forming.

There's a pause outside. Maybe she's listened and gone away...

"Please Henry," No, she hasn't. His head falls into his hands, slouched over. "Please just let me in."

Henry bites his lip, frowning, calming down that anger. Mama wouldn't want him being rude, she'd tell him she raised him better, and she definitely wouldn't want him being rude to girls. With a sigh, giving one last wipe to his blood-shot eyes, he calls back to her with a sigh.

"Fiiinne."

He hears the door being opened slowly, shutting his eyes as he allows someone in for the first time.

"Oh, Henry..."

He hates it. Hates hearing the pitting in her voice. Though it shouldn't surprise him, the curtains are closed shut blocking out all the light, the canopy curtains around his bed are shut around him, encasing him in his grief.

He hears her footsteps approaching him, quells the urge to shout at her to go away. He let her in after all, didn't he?

A hand grips onto one of the curtains, pulling it back and he turns his head, catching sight of the girl for the first time since this morning. She's changed her clothes, no longer wearing those formal dresses he saw Mrs Nolan or Emma wear. Instead she's dressed for bed, a blue nightdress and her hair tied back. Maybe she was on her way to bed before stopping to see him, it is late after all, later than Mama let him stay up.

Mama...

Will he see her again? He doesn't think he'll see Robin again, Robin's English, he's not supposed to be here. Now they'll take him away because he said something he wasn't meant to. And Mama...Will they take her too? This is all his fault.

He can't help himself then, his lip quivers no matter how much his tries to stop it, to be brave like Mama taught him to, his eyes swelling up with tears. He's stupid! A stupid little boy...

"Henry..." She climbs onto the bed, the girl- Wendy, that's her name, she has two little brothers; John and Michael. Michael offered him his bear when they first met this morning but Henry had thrown it, telling the boy a little bear wasn't going to bring back his mama. He hadn't cried then. He wanted to, but he hadn't. He wasn't going to cry in front of these people. But now...

Wendy wraps his arms around him, bringing him towards her and it's nice. Nice being held and allowed to cry. Mama did it a lot, when he was younger and when his father ran away. He thought that was his fault, too, thought he did something wrong and Papa didn't want him anymore. Mama had seen to that though, calming him down and telling him that Papa had important business he had to do. It must be important; Henry hasn't seen him since.

"I just want her back," he cries, inaudible almost by the lump in his throat. God, he sounds and looks like a baby; eyes red, salty tasting tears running down his face, nose snotty. Wendy doesn't seem to mind, though- Mama didn't mind either, even when Henry got snot and slobber all over her nice clean dresses, she didn't mind, telling him she'd had worse on her.

"I know," Wendy says, her hands rubbing his back and it's comforting, really comforting. He feels his eyes beginning to droop, unable to keep them open. Will he sleep, though? He hopes, he's usually a good sleeper, but that's with Mama in the house- he knows that if Mama's home then nothing can hurt him. Knows that if Mama's home everything is fine and safe and happy. But it's not any of these things, because Mama's not home. He's not home.

He pushes himself away from Wendy and Wendy removes her arms from around him.

"It's going to be all right." she says as he looks up. "You're Mama will be fine."

"Will she?" he asks. He doesn't believe that- the men took her after all, the bad men who take people they don't like. They don't like his Mama.

"Of course she will, you just have to believe it." She hopes off the bed then, a smile on her face as she asks, "Do you want me to tell you a story before bed? I used to tell one to my brothers all the time to help them sleep, what about you?"

He frowns again. Mama used to tell him stories all the time when he was little and he really liked them, more then he'd like to admit. He was the one who stopped them, when Mama came into his room and Henry had blurted out _I'm a big boy now, Mama. I don't need stories!_ Mama had smiled but it hadn't quite reached her eyes now when he thinks about it but she'd smiled, asking if she at least gets to kiss him goodbye which he'd proclaimed him a _Yes!_ before leaving and the bedtime stories stopped.

He misses Mama's smile...

Maybe a story will help him sleep. Maybe he's not too old after all. So he nods, settling into bed and Wendy climbs back onto it, sitting in front of him with her legs crossed as she begins her stories, using silly voices that make Henry laugh and even acting some parts out. She finishes, telling her that John and Michael shall join them tomorrow night and Henry nods, his eyes beginning to close. He likes Wendy, and though his heart is still heavy, he's still feeling guilty, still missing Mama and Robin, he falls asleep easily, almost away as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Something does stick out to him, though. The princess Wendy mentioned in her story, it reminded him of Mama and if the princess can get out of whatever situation she's in, so can Mama.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Secrets of War Chapter Eleven

 _Prev. The Ball Rolls Down The Hill. Original Idea. Au. Ww2. Dark times loom ahead for everybody and when Robin- an English soldier- finds himself wounded in a German city. His fate rests against a little ten year old boy and his mother as all three of them must fight for Robin's existence to remain a secret. Outlaw Queen. Regal Believer._

 **Ugh, this chapter was a complete and utter pain to write. So many problems. It got better towards the end but I'm still not 100% okay with this. Basically, this is gonna involve a lot of editing in the future. I hope you enjoy :)**

 **Also, trigger warning for implied rape.**

 **Also is down so I'll upload this up there when it's working again.**

 **Three Days Later**

"So the boy was lying?"

Robin sighs, his head falling back as he shuts his eyes. No, the boy wasn't lying, far from it. Every word he's probably told you was true. Robin's the liar in the situation.

The story he told, wasn't one of truth. He lied about everything he said and the things he didn't say, he kept locked away in his heart.

"I swear," Robin says, opening his eyes and looking back towards Heller. "I was just visiting here when I tried to get back to English and they told me I couldn't."

"Why would the boy lie?" Heller asks for what seems like the 100th time in the three days they've been stuck here. "Why would he say you're part of the British Army?"

He was getting frustrated now. He's told them the story over and over since they first asked of it, why wouldn't they just let him go now?

"I don't know," says Robin, throwing his hands up. "Perhaps he overheard something and got it confused with something else. All I know is, I'm not the man you're looking for."

Heller leaves his chair, heading over to Lange- the blonde one- to stands near the door. Heller whispers to him in German, words Robin painstakingly can't understand. Robin moves his eyes from them to the old man who had been staring out of the little barred window since Robin had been dragged in here. He'd kept silent but Robin had no doubt he'd been listening to the interrogation.

Heller and Lange carry on whispering by the door, both of them at it now but Robin keeps his gaze on the man, watching him become increasingly more annoyed each second and wondering what that will mean for him.

" _Aus_!" he shouts suddenly, halting the whisperings of Heller and Lange and making Robin jump in his seat. The man turns, eyeing up the two Nazis as they nod and are quickly opening the door and leaving. Robin watches, now alone with just a old soldier, as he turns back to the man, unsure of what was going to happen.

"Whispering like old ladies," he mutters, shaking his head. He then moves to sit in the seat Heller had just been occupying as he stares at Robin. Eye contact had never been Robin's strong point and yet he tries to keep his own eyes on the old man's dark ones.

"If you're story is true," the man says. "Why did Miss Mills lie on the first visit?"

Robin tries to think of a plausible explanation. God. he just wants out of here. A good sleep, good food. Tucked away and out of this god forsaken country.

"I don't know," he says, wiping a hand over his face. "Perhaps you should ask her."

The man laughs. "We would but it seems she's very unresponsive, regardless the methods we use."

The realisation of what he's implying sinks in. As he moves his hand away from his face, he finds the man with, what looks like, a reminiscence of a smirk on his face. His chest tightens, fist clenching as he does all in his power not to fling himself at the man before him, bound to a chair be damned.

So he sits, words silent but his anger no doubt loud.

"So we've asked her and all she's really done is spit in our faces and remained quiet."

He pushes his brain away from the thought of her down there, even if the thought does make him want to kill any bastard who laid even a hand on her. He has no right to do so, if anyone should be giving these fuckwankers justice, it should be her.

"Maybe she was scared," Robin says, spouting any old nonsense. "It's clearly not safe to have English in your house."

"Maybe she was scared," the man repeats, voice emotionless and face hard.

 _Gold, open up!_

Robin's head instantly turns towards the door. The sound of another's voice that doesn't belong to himself, or Heller, or Lange, or even Gold is a god send. Maybe it's something who can help them get out of this mess.

Yet when the door is opened and Robin takes sight of the man behind it, he doesn't think that's the case anymore.

"What's going on?" the man asks, pushing his way into the room. "Who's this?"

"Our prisoner, David." Gold says, shutting the door behind him. "There had been rumours of an English soldier in our country. We decided to find out the truth."

This David looks at him, eyes scanning, lingering on what he can see of his injured leg as doubt crosses his face.

"An English soldier, you say?" he asks Gold. "All I see is a man with a broken leg."

Robin knows it's too early to feel relived yet perhaps this man could be their saving grace after all.

"Well, you see-"

"I'm sure Lieutenant Möller only gave you permission to petrol the city and not arrest innocent members of the public?"

"He's not a member of the public, Nolan," says Gold, his voice hard once more. "He's from England."

Robin can see how hard Officer Nolan is trying to fight back a smile. He himself can even feel one on his own face.

"Last time I checked, Officer Gold, being English was a reason to arrest someone." There's a seconds silence that passes, Gold realising his mistake and lack of evidence supporting the claim and well, seems like luck is on Robin's side after all, it's only three days late. "Is he Jewish?" Nolan asks.

"Not that I know of."

"Then we release him," says Nolan, walking over to Robin and kneeling down. "Anyway, even if it was a soldier, he'd be discharged the moment anyway laid eyes on his injuries." he begins releasing the rope around Robin's ankles. "Who else have you arrested unjustly?"

"A girl," says Gold, sounding unpleased. "Regina Mills- she's in cell forty-eight."

Nolan stands up, a recognition across his face. "Mills?" he asks and Gold nods. "Take me to her."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She's weak.

Can feel every inch of her body aching. Hurting in certain places. She'd stop fighting them, numbed herself to whatever they do it her. It's spoils of war, after all.

She can hear voices. They're distant and distorted, she can just about make them out. She barely hears voices. Normally it's just the clanging of keys against the bars, rustling of clothing and finally-

 _Regina?_

This voice she can hear. Can barely believe she's hearing it. Her head cocks up, the motion has her eyesight going fuzzy, feeling dizzy as she tries to focus but there he is. _Robin_ , standing there with his hands around the bars while a soldier stands next to him. She's confused at first, why and how is he here? And who's the Nazi standing next to him?

"We're being set free, Regina," Robin tells her and she can barely keep up with the words. "Officer Nolan's letting us go."

Regina nods before laying back onto the floor. She doesn't want to move. She wants to leave, but she doesn't want to move. She doesn't think she can.

 _You'll have to help me_.

Regina shuts her eyes at the clanging of keys, the squeakiness of the gate opening. It's all just back in the distance, unnecessary noise in the background.

 _You'll have to carry her, I don't think she can walk on her own._

She feels arms wrap around her, picking her up from the floor and Regina finds herself snuggling into them, the whisper, Robin's voice of, _You're going to be alright_ and she feels the gentle sway of Robin walking before everything around her shuts off completely.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Cooking was never his strong point. It was something Marian did, something he can remember fondly. Yet when Marian wasn't there anymore and Roland had only Robin to depend on, it taught himself how to cook. It was never the greatest, never came to the standard Marian got the food to, but it was enough. It would do.

He hadn't cooked in years. Yet he could manage a decent potato soup. Hopefully.

He to-and-fros between the food and Regina. She'd been like dead weight before they'd even left the prison yet Robin had held onto to her through the whole journey and even carried her back to the bed. It felt nice carrying her, caring for her just as she had done. David had told them that they shouldn't get any more visits from the other three and when Robin had asked about the whereabouts of Henry, David said he'd look for the boy and bring him home as fast as he could.

Just as the food finishes, Regina murmurs, shifting about in the bed as she frowns and slowly opens her eyes. He smiles when they land on him. She's still weak, could probably do with that food right now.

"Where are we?" she asks, voice hoarse. She probably needs a drink to go along with the food.

"Home," Robin tells her, still smiling. "David's gone to get Henry, he'll be with us soon."

"Henry..." there's a faint smile on her lips, once that's suddenly replaced by a grimace of pain and a grumble of her stomach. Right, food.

Robin stands from the bed, heading over to the kitchen and taking the yellow bowl off the stove. It's probably still warm but he can't imagine she'll care as he places it on the table beside the bed and proceeds to make her a drink.

"It seems it's now reversed," Regina says, trying to sit up. He notices the struggle, quickly walking back to the bed and placing the water besides the bowl, helping her to sit up. He hands her the water which she drinks, all of it, quickly and in one gulp. Even that's enough to bring her back to life, but she still needs food.

"Thank you," she says as she places the bowl on her lap, picking up the spoon and beginning to eat. She eats just as quickly as she drank and Robin has a mind to tell her to slow down but he doesn't. She needs it.

"Are you okay?" he asks. It's a question he'd been meaning to ask her. All he's wanted to ask since Gold's implication. "They didn't..." He watches her slowly bring the spoon down, her eyes shimmer with shame and he's instantly punching himself in the face. It was too soon.

"All I want is Henry," she says, proceeding to eat but slowly down immensely. "Then I'll be... _better_."

Robin nods, telling her that David shouldn't be long bringing him.

"He's the soldier that let us free, right?"

"Yeah. Heller, Lange, and Gold shouldn't bother us. Though, he did seem to recognise you. Or name, at least."

"David..."

"Yeah. Nolan, I think his last name is. Do you know him?"

There's a smile that passes across her face. "Mary Margaret," she says and that alone has Robin puzzled.

"Who?"

She giggles a little, much like she had the night they'd got drunk. "Neal Nolan's mother."

Robin _Ah_ 's, he remembers Neal.

"I would've said he might have known me because of my father but I think he was a little too young then."

"You're father was in the war?" Perhaps it's an obvious question but one that has him all intrigued.

"The first one," she says, placing the empty bowl on the side. He'll move it later. "He died, fighting Russia."

He watches a sadness appear in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay," she says, shaking her head. "But it's why I called Henry, Henry."

Robin smiles. The similar thing had happened with Roland's name. It had been Marian's brother's name who had died when they were young. They'd been close, Marian told him and so when Roland was born, it only seems right for him to have her brother's name.

Yet Robin can't say that, for reasons he doesn't know himself.

"Mama?"

Amidst their conversation they hadn't even heard the door opening but at the sound of the familiar voice, they both turn to see Henry standing there, his eyes wide and unbelieving. Robin turns back to Regina, finding the same emotions mirrored in her own expression.

"Henry..."

It's a little early for her to be out of the bed but Robin isn't going to be the one to protest. He just moves out of the chair to watch as mother and son reunite. He looks to David, mouths a quick _Danke_ and the man nods, wishing them a final goodbye and leaving.

Robin leaves Henry and Regina to hug and whisper things to each other in German. He picks up the bowl and cup, throwing them into the sink, finally happy that they're safe and together.


End file.
